Neglected Hearts
by Gratiae
Summary: Life leaves scars on every person and sometimes they refuse to heal. But sometimes the scars and the pain are all you have left, the pain is proof of something real. And sometimes you just can't let go of the past, because letting go hurts more than holding on. Sequel to "Cracked Concrete."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now." – Unknown_

o o o o

17 January, 2011

"Well hello gorgeous," Emily Prentiss muttered to herself and looked up when a fresh face walked through the glass doors into the bullpen area. Even with him looking down at the paper in his hand, Prentiss could tell he was one of the most beautiful men she had ever, and would ever, see off the silver screen. Silently begging he was a new employee, she pushed her chair away from her desk and winked at her co-worker and the owner of the adjourning desk, Dr. Spencer Reid, who'd noticed the newcomer as well, whispered a reminder about her boyfriend. "Hi. You look a little lost."

"Ha! That'd be because I am," the man looked up and Prentiss went a little weak at the knees when she saw his crystal blue-grey eyes. Those eyes, that tousled brown hair, and his cocky yet adorable smile combined with the way he looked in those jeans should be an illegal combination.

"I'm Emily Prentiss. I'm a member of Agent Hotchner's BAU team."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm James. James Murdoch."

"Good to meet you, James. Are you new to the BAU?" Prentiss ignored the way Reid coughed meaningfully and made a note to either throw something at him later or tell Calliope Sellers, Reid's fiancée, the next time he did something stupid. Besides, Eli had been deployed on another tour in the Middle East since the summer and she deserved a little flirting, didn't she? Why not with someone as gorgeous as this tan piece of art? It wasn't like she was going to act on it.

"Uh, no. I'm not. I'm looking for my brother-in-law. The woman at the front desk gave me his office number and directions, but I think I got turned around."

"Well, what office are you looking for?"

"Uh," James looked back down at the slip of paper. "Two eighteen."

"Ha! I'm sorry, she must have given you the wrong office number. Two eighteen can't be who you're looking for," Prentiss laughed a little.

"You sure? Oh. Okay. Well, maybe you can tell me where Derek Morgan's office is than."

"Morgan?" Reid nearly dropped his blue mug and stared blatantly, completely stunned. "Derek Morgan?"

"Morgan… Morgan's not married," Prentiss shook her head in confusion, unable to come up with anything else to say.

"James!" Morgan was walking out of Hotch's office and looked startled to see the young man standing there. A huge smile spread across his face and he snapped the file in his hand shut, hurrying down the steps into the bullpen. "C'mere, kid."

James grinned and the two men embraced, clapping each other on the back and exchanging greetings. Morgan led the man out of the bullpen towards his office and left Reid and Prentiss staring after them in sheer and utter confusion.

"Wh… when – when did Morgan get… _married_?" Prentiss turned to Reid who gave an expression that told her he had as little of a clue as she did. "Jeeze. Why do I have to be attracted to my friend's relatives? Seriously? Two in a row? Man."

"Literally. And if Calliope finds out, you are in so much trouble."

"Shut up, Reid. I'd never cheat on Eli. A girl needs to flirt sometimes, though. God. I can't believe I didn't know Morgan was married. How did none of us know? I have to call García. She can find the dirt."

"The dirt on what?" Ashley Seaver asked absently as she came in looking at the newspaper she held.

"Morgan's married," Reid told her.

"What?" Seaver nearly dropped the newspaper she had in her hands.

"Hey, P.G. Can you look up a man named James Murdoch for me?" Prentiss asked into her cell phone. "What? No. He's not part of a case. I'm just curious. Oh, come on. When did rules ever stop you? You tried to get Prince Williams' number from the CIA computer. Rules didn't stop you from looking Callie up when – That's not fair! Why is that 'different'? Why does Reid get special treatment?"

"I didn't ask her to look Calliope or the Sellers up," Reid reminded her. "If fact, I told her not to. That was all García."

"That was to protect a family member?" Prentiss repeated García's defensive reasoning. "Well this guy just walked in saying he's Morgan's brother-in-law. Doesn't that constitute 'protec…' Wait a second… You knew! Oh my god! You knew, didn't you?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What are you doing here, James?" Derek couldn't stop smiling as he closed the door of his office behind them.

"None of them know about Sam," the younger man was looking at him with a confused and hurt expression on his face. "Are… are you ashamed or something? I mean, I never thought you were. I thought you were happy."

"I'm not ashamed, James."

"Coulda fooled me," James shrugged and leaned against Derek's desk, studying him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"James, it's not like that. It's just… Sam's private. A private, special part of my life that I don't want to share. If they knew there'd be questions and curious looks and I don't want that. Not here. I love Sammie, don't worry about that. This has absolutely nothing to do with that."

"Sam deserves recognition, Derek. My sister doesn't deserve to be shoved in a closet and have you pretend she doesn't exist."

"It's not like that."

"Really? None of your co-workers knew about her!" James voice was a bit louder than he had anticipated and he could feel himself getting upset. He'd looked up to this man, idolized him, since he was sixteen and this revelation sent his opinion of his brother-in-law reeling. "Are we not good enough for the important FBI people or something?"

"James, come on. You know that's not true." Walking past James, Derek opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled a framed picture out from under a few other files obscuring it from few. "She's always right here."

"Filed away," he scoffed, a disgusted expression on his face.

"I see your temper hasn't faded any with age," Derek sighed, looking down at the picture in his hands. He was a decade younger in the picture, despite his smile there were no crows' feet around his eyes, he'd been clean-shaven and had hair, he actually looked genuinely happy. And it had everything to do with the woman he was smiling at. Samantha looked up at him with a huge smile on her face, her blonde hair had snowflakes caught in it and blew in the wind slightly, a few strands obscuring her face, but her eyes sparkled happily. He remembered that day so clearly. They'd been with her family at a picnic on Lake Michigan. It'd been uncharacteristically cold that early October, so they were bundled in heavy coats and gloves. Her coat barely managed to stretch over her stomach and one of his hands rested there protectively, the other wrapped around the small of her back.

_ "I love you."_

That's what he'd been saying when her then-eight-year-old cousin Gia snapped the picture of them.

"You're not even wearing you're ring. This is the first time I've seen you without your ring. Every time you come home you're wearing it. Why not now?" James' eyes narrowed, zeroing in on Derek's bare left hand.

"James, stop it."

"Right. Don't want to make a scene. I can't believe I ever wanted to be you. Whenever you come home, you talk about these people like they're your family. I know all about them. But they don't – your friends don't even know about Sam, much less Ellie or me or –"

"Stop it," Derek cut his brother off, his own temper rising. "She means everything to me. Ellie means everything. You mean everything. I do this job _because_ of her, because of Ellie. No, I haven't shared them with my co-workers because they're special. Sammie and Ellie mean everything to me, my entire world, so don't come in here and act like you know what's going on."

"Well, who's fault is it that no one back home knows anything except what you deem tell us?" James shot back. "You just couldn't wait to pack up and get as far away from Chicago as possible."

"I was pushed out of Chicago. There was nothing left there. I couldn't stay."

"Nothing left? There was everything left! Your entire family was left. Our entire family was left! I was left! You walked out. You ran away to play soldier –"

"I did _not _run away from anything, James!"

"You ran as fast as you could. You ran and left me to pick up the pieces!"

"If we're going to do this, let's do it properly, kid. Not here in my office. Let's go down to the gym. Let's go see which one of us can beat the crap out of the other one first. Just like old times."

"Well, they know I'm your brother-in-law, so I kind of screwed you there," James said after a long period of silence. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

"Eh, what are brother's for if not to fight with? I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I left you guys. You know I love you, right?" Derek put the picture down on the desk.

"You wouldn't have stuck with my ass so long if you didn't. Love you too, bro."

"So, what are you doing here? You've never been to Virginia, much less to my work. What's up?"

"I wanted to tell you in person," James was finally grinning again, a big, full-blown smile that took up most of his face and lit his eyes. The smile Derek knew by heart. "Juventus wants me. So do Milan, Barcelona and Man U. Liverpool and Everton called. And Real Madrid. A whole slew of others too. The Celtics, Roma, Chelsea."

"Ha! My man! I knew you'd get out of the U.S. and into the big leagues." Crossing to the other side of the desk, Derek hugged him again. "I knew as soon as I saw that save that you'd be getting the calls."

"Well, they've been interested for a while, but I think that friendly pushed it over. They're serious now."

"It's gonna be Juventus, right? Of course it's Juve. You have to play for Italy."

"I'm not sure," James admitted. "It's a lot to think about."

"What? What's to think about? Your room looked like a Juve store! How can it not be Juve? Ponsiglione's is practically closed on days when Juve plays. George would come back to smite you if you turned them down."

"I know. But Barcelona, Man U, Real Madrid… they're, like, top three in the world. And they want me. I mean, they aren't starting gigs like I have in Houston, but even benching it most of the season in one of the top three…"

"Of course they want you. You're a helluva keeper. And what the hell are you talking about, Juve is the best club in the world."

"Internazionale is the best club in the world. They just won the championship for the fifth year in a row," James argued.

"Who cares? Juventus is Juventus."

"I couldn't play for Juventus, Derek. No way," James shook his head. "When I met Gigi at the World Cup, I nearly shit my pants. I couldn't even talk. How am I supposed to play for Juve? I'd never stop a single shot."

"Naw, you'd calm down once you got into the game."

"So, you came all the way to Virginia to tell me this? I mean, not that I'm complaining, man!"

"Hah, you wish," James shoved his arm. "Naw, there's a People to People meeting in Washington that I have to be at. This year's tournament's in Italy and Germany, so I volunteered to be one of the conditioning coaches. The players who've coached before loved it."

"When those high schoolers meet you, they're gonna do exactly what you did when you met Gigi."

"They're playing in an international soccer tournament, I think they'll be on a high as it is. I don't even need to show up," James laughed and Derek just smiled happily.

"It's kind of early, but do you want to go grab some lunch? I haven't seen you since Thanksgiving."

"Won't they wonder?" James gestured in the direction of the bullpen.

"They're already wondering."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I've had way too much Monster today. Except I haven't even finished the one I started. WHOOPS. I guess I should have another. And maybe some chocolate. And a PopTart. And maybe some Diet Dr. Pepper on top of that. It's draft day. I probably won't see much of it, 'cause I'm hanging with my Jermy before he goes back to school. Here's to hoping the Canucks get a great pick!**

**Okay, the people who are just picking this up and don't know me already are sitting there like, "Da fuq is wrong with this girl?" and the rest of you who've been with me through _Cracked Concrete _and_ Mystery Muse_ are like, "Welp, Thalia had too much Monster today, now didn't she? Someone should really take that away from her." Whichever one you are, I LOVE YOU.**

**OKAY. _Neglected Hearts_ is the sequel to _Cracked Concrete_, which somehow became very well loved by people other than myself. Weird. You crazy people. Cracked Concrete is the parallel prequel to _Mystery Muse, _which has a bazillion one-shots that go along with that - I lovingly call them "deleted scenes," and ****it runs parallel to _Mystery Muses_' sequel _Welcome to the Whirlwind_ ** Ugh, that's complicated.

**Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_Nothing is permanent in this wicked world. Not even our troubles." – Charles Chaplin_

o o o o

18 January, 2011

Exhausted, Derek stripped down to his boxer briefs and slid under the covers. He punched up the pillow a little before settling down and closing his eyes against the clock displaying two in the morning. Today had been so long; it felt like forty-odd hours rather than eighteen.

"Hey, Superman," Sammie rolled over and snuggled close, kissing his neck and wrapping her arm around his waist. He kissed her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Long day?"

"You have no idea, Sammie-Girl," Derek smiled slightly and held her securely. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweet talker. Did you catch the bad guy?"

"Yeah. Sort of. Suicide by cop. He won't be hurting anymore kids, though."

"Good. If he'd gone to jail, he'd be paroled after only half his sentence."

"I think being with me has jaded you, Angel," he shook his head. Sammie simply smiled and kissed him.

"James came to see you at work, huh? Before you got the call?"

"Ya know, having you know everything isn't all it's cracked up to be, Sam."

"Poor baby," the blonde teased, nuzzling her nose against his and kissing the corner of his mouth.

"James came. Everyone knows now. No one said anything, though. James and I went to lunch and I had to cut it short when Hotch called. We were too busy trying to track down Baum for them to give me the third degree. When we finally got him, we were all too tired to do anything."

"You nervous?" Sammie tangled her fingers with his.

"A little. They'll either bombard me with questions or pretend none of it happened and they still have no idea," Derek kissed her, shifting onto his side and looked down into her eyes. He traced the scar under her left eye and kissed her nose, the soft look in his eyes told her how much he loved her. Sammie smiled at him, lifted her free hand up and cupped it around the base of his neck. She brushed her lips lightly against his once, twice and, on the third time, Derek deepened the kiss, gently nudging her onto her back and rubbing a hand over her swollen stomach.

"Which are you hoping for?" Sammie asked, breathlessly.

"I'm not sure, Baby Girl," Derek moved down to kiss her neck.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Derek slipped his watch on his wrist and closed the walnut jewelry box. He was about to leave when he stopped at the sight of the bottom drawer of the box slightly ajar. Thinning his lips and closing his eyes, he waited a few seconds before pulling it open. Only three small items lay in this drawer, but this drawer contained his entire heart.

He reached in and took out the three gold rings. Derek traced his fingertip over the diamonds in the center of the small, thin ring. The ring was far too small to ever fit on his finger. No, it had once circled a finger far more precious than his. His mother had worn the ring first, but it had last been worn by his Sammie. It couldn't fit on his mother's finger any longer. They'd had to take the ring to the jeweler who made it smaller for Sammie's finger.

"Derek… what are you doing, my handsome sweet talker?" Sammie perched up in bed on her elbow and massaging the side of her stomach. "You're going to be late for work."

"I'll be fine, Angel. How are you feeling?"

"Like this little girl is never going to come out of her mama."

"I'm sorry, Angel," he sighed and carefully put her engagement ring and wedding band back in the box and closed the door. He looked down at his own simple gold wedding band and turned it over and over in his fingers. Derek paused for a single moment more before slipping the ring on his left hand ring finger, sliding it over his knuckles until it rested perfectly where it was supposed to be.

"Are you sure you want to wear that, Derek?" Sammie waddled over to him with her hand propped against her back.

"It's time, Sammie-Girl. This is where my ring belongs," Derek slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her temple.

"You don't have to do this, Baby," she told him as Derek rested a hand on her stomach. He kissed her neck and hugged her close as she covered his hand with hers.

"_Ti amo, mia bella ragazza_," Derek repeated the oft-whispered mantra in her ear. "I love you, my beautiful girl. It's okay, though. It's time, Sam."

"Only if you're sure, Superman."

"I'm sure." Derek's voice was resolved as he kissed her and closed the jewelry box. He looked at his left hand and nodded to himself. It was time. It was far past overdue, if he were honest with himself, but Derek Morgan was not always honest with himself. In fact, Derek Morgan was rarely honest with himself.

Sometimes, lying was just easier.

"Be safe, Baby," Sammie kissed him again and pushed him out of the bedroom. "I love you."

He looked down to see the ginger tabby cat rub against his leg, meowing insistently as he shut the bedroom door behind him. "Let me guess, Crookshanks… I'm not moving fast enough for you. C'mon. Do you want tuna or chicken this morning, buster? How badly have you been torturing Clooney? Is he going to be in one pe – Hey there, Cloon. You've gotten into something, haven't you? Yeah, I'll find out, Clooney. Eventually, I'll find whatever it is you chewed up."

With a fork, Derek scooped cat food out of a can onto a small dish and then mashed it slightly to make it easier to for Crookshanks eat. As soon as Derek put the plate down on the ground, the cat pounced. Clooney whined pathetically as if to say 'What about me?' and Derek shook his head at the German shepherd. He glanced at his watch and quickly measured out some dry food into the blue bowl and checked the water for both animals before heading out the door.

Derek closed his eyes as the door closed behind him and silence hit him like he'd walked right into a brick wall. Leaning back against the door, he took a few deep breaths, trying to balance himself like he did every morning. Derek glanced down at the ring on his finger and realized he managed to find his equilibrium easier than he did every other morning.

When he got to work, he went through his usual routine: hanging his slacks and shirt in his locker, tightening the laces on his sneakers, running a five-K, a thousand sit-ups, five hundred push ups, free weights, bench press, leg press, a cool down, shower and head up stairs. Today, his usual routine was anything but usual. He went through the same steps and did the same thing he did every morning, but eyes that usually glossed over him as a normal fixture of their morning glued to his left hand like Strauss and her Blackberry.

No one dared come up to him, but no one stopped themselves from staring or talking. After his shower, he grabbed his dry cleaning and headed upstairs. Derek passed through the bullpen and felt Spencer's eyes on his back as he turned the corner towards his office. He changed and sat down, staring at his hand and wondering how a gold ring could make a someone into a different person.

It was ten minutes to nine. He needed to get to the round table room for a new briefing. But something just wasn't right. He pulled the framed photographs from their hiding place his desk drawers and set them on his desk.

One was a photograph from his twenty-fourth birthday. He was at a park, covered in mud from playing soccer, with his arms around a sixteen-year-old James and a twenty-year-old Sammie. With a smile, Derek put it on the shelf behind his desk. He turned back to the other five.

Derek picked up a second frame. This one was a double frame holding two wallet-sized photographs. On the right, his mother smiled up with a tiny baby in her arms. Her eyes were bloodshot and her smile was teary. On the left, his mother-in-law, Andria, was looking down at the baby, a fingertip tracing over the caramel-coloured cheek. Derek bit his bottom and turned, putting it next to his computer. He stared at his baby girl's face for a long time before sighing. "I love you, Ellie."

He turned back and picked up the third photograph. The two of them were in the United Center sporting red Blackhawks jerseys, her's a number twenty-one Mikita and his a number nine Hull. They were cheering over a goal, hands in the air with ecstatic smiles on their faces. They looked ridiculous, but Derek had taken the picture from the Blackhawks' website regardless. Derek put the picture on the other end of the bookcase.

The fourth photograph was the one Derek had pulled out yesterday to show James. He smiled at it and put it on the table against the wall, next to the plant he only remembered to water half the time.

Derek picked up the next frame. It was just his Sammie. She knelt on the grass in front in khaki pants and a black blouse, her hands pressed together like she was praying. Her head was down and her blonde hair bobbed around her shoulders. Derek smiled, putting it on his desk right next to his pencil cup.

The sixth picture was his favourite. He stood in front of the alter of a church in a black tuxedo with his arms around Sammie in her perfect white dress, his head down and kissing her in the happiest embrace of his life. James stood as his best man and Sammie's best friend, Keira Young, held Sammie's bouquet. It had easily been the happiest day of his life then, so young at twenty-five, and it still was ten years later.

The photograph went in a place of prominence, right on his desk to the right of his lamp, next to the phone in the spot he looked most when he sat there doing paper work. It should have been put there a long time ago.

Derek stood in the doorway of his office and looked around the office on last time. It looked right. It finally looked right.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

19 January, 2011

"Where's Prentiss?" Morgan asked, walking into the round table room with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"I dunno," Reid looked up at him. "Her car wasn't here when I rode in this morning."

"I'm gonna give her a call," García said, unfolding her legs and stood from her chair. "Get her ETA."

"Hey," Prentiss greeted them, hurrying through the door as Morgan put his mug down.

"Somebody have a long night?" Morgan asked with his eyebrows raised, his head turning to watch her cross the room with a purpose.

She gave him an extremely pointed look, staring right at the gold band on his finger – the appearance of which one had yet mentioned. "Somebody want to mind their own business?"

Morgan's eyebrows furrowed as she grabbed the pot of coffee and poured. Her tone had been harsh when she spoke to him and her eyes were hard, like she was daring him to say something. He filed the look away to bring up later, when they were along. Prentiss obviously had something to say, but now was neither the time or place.

If she was angry with him, not that she shouldn't be angry, why hadn't she said anything yesterday? Why hadn't any of them spoken yesterday? He'd expected questions and a lot of them. He hadn't gotten a single one. No one had brought up James, no one had asked about the ring, no one even stared at it. Morgan didn't know what to think.

"García," Hotch strode into the room and Derek sat down.

"Spin the wheel and it's sunny Los Angeles, people," García clicked on the television.

"Two times in one year, huh?" Derek asked in a sort of sigh.

"Remind me again why it's called the City of Angels," Rossi's voice dripped with sarcasm and he practically rolled his eyes as he spoke.

"It was originally called The Town of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels," Reid started in his quick, coffee-driven voice. His intake of the liquid had increased since meeting Calliope and the speed at which he spoke was rising to match. Everyone turned to look at him and Reid looked to Morgan in questioning. "That was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"

Morgan chuckled and shook his head. While everything was changing for him right now, it was nice to know that some things never would.

"This is a weird one," García started, but Morgan interrupted.

"As opposed to?"

"Ah, withhold your judgment, _mon ami_."

The rest of the briefing was just as weird as García promised and Morgan walked out of the room ten minutes later with his skin crawling. Back in his office as he pulled his go bag from it's place in the cupboard and took his cell phone from his pocket.

"Hey, Anna. Yup. Los Angeles this time. Thanks so much for taking care of Cloon and Crookshanks. I know you know the drill, but the instructions are still on the fridge just in case. Crookshanks had another tooth removed last week – yeah, he's getting old. But just make sure to mash his food enough so he can eat it. He only has two more antibiotic pills to take. They're on the counter. He needs them in the morning and then give him a treat after. Yeah. Thanks so, so much, Anna, you're a lifesaver. Yeah, I'll give you a call when we're on the way back. Oh! And don't let Crookshanks out of the house. The Shaughnessy's cat was killed by something last week. Okay, thanks. Bye."

Morgan shouldered his go bag and looked down at the picture of Sammie in the grass. "Bye, Angel. See you later."

* * *

**A/N:**

**MY FAVOURITE HOCKEY PLAYER IN THE HISTORY OF THE ENTIRE WORLD DID NOT SIGN WITH MY CANUCKS FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS. PLEASE, THE ENTIRE WORLD NEEDS TO CRY WITH ME OVER THE LOSS OF SAMI SALO, THE MOST PERFECT MAN TO EVER LIVE. WAAAAAAAAAAH.**

**No, seriously, I cried so hard, you have no idea. Sami's been my favourite player since 2002. And now he's going to play for the Tampa Bay Lightning. I need someone to hold me.**

**Also, the picture of Sammie on Derek's desk - the one where she's on the grass looking like she's going to pray - that picture is actually in the series. In episode 6x16 "Coda" at the end when Penelope brings popcorn into Derek's office and Derek throws his pen over his shoulder, you can clearly see a picture of a plump blond woman praying next to the pencil cup on his desk. Look it up.**

**Okay, I need some aspirin for my teeth, because they hurt, and then I'm going to bed because it's 3:33 in the morning. Honestly, I do all my best writing at night. I should become nocturnal.**

**I'm going to sleep, thanks so much for reading, I hope you loved it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_It's the scariest thing ever to realize how much someone means to you. When it hits you, I mean __really__ hits you, all these thoughts and questions rush through your head at once. A sad emotion even starts to creep on you slowly inch by inch as you start to wonder._

_What if for some reason things don't work out? How are you possibly going to live without them?_

_Someone that was once a stranger now is the only person you know like the back of your hand. Someone you once had no emotions for, now has the power to break your heart. Someone you never used to hang out with, now owns most of your time. Someone you never thought you'd love, now owns your entire heart. Someone you once lived without, you now wish to hold onto __**forever**__. – Author Unknown_

o o o o

19 January, 2011

"Prentiss, hop in the back," Morgan said, going around the back of the cab as the cab driver opened the back door for Prentiss, who thanked him as she bent to enter. Prentiss closed her door as Morgan slid into the drivers seat, closing his door as well.

Morgan looked in the rearview window at his partner. The tension between them hadn't dissipated since this morning. Neither one mentioned it, but Morgan could feel it as if the tension was pressing against him on all sides and, though Prentiss made no comment, he was sure she felt it as well.

He wanted to say something about it, but stuck to the case instead. "So why a cab? He could control a woman better if he had a van or something."

"Yeah, but a woman probably wouldn't get into a van voluntarily. A cab enables him to blend in when he's on the hunt," Prentiss looked around, observing from the back seat, the victim's seat, for a moment before meeting his eyes in the review mirror briefly and then looking away.

"Well, he doesn't choose his victims until they get inside," Morgan let himself settle into the hunter's seat, thinking about the case and about the unsub, thinking _like_ the unsub.

"Right, so, what is it about _these_ passengers?" Prentiss asked.

"Well, I doubt it's anything visual," Morgan reasoned, looking around from the driver's seat. "He'd get a better look at his victims from the street as opposed to the back of his cab."

Prentiss reached out and slid the sheet of scratched Plexiglas to close the square opening in the barrier between front and back seats and then slid it open again. "Partition. They aren't touching each other. It probably isn't based on that."

Morgan let out a deep sigh. If it wasn't sight and it wasn't touch, what could it be? Sight, touch, taste… it couldn't be taste. How could he taste them through a partition? What woman wouldn't run screaming if some strange man tried to taste her?

Sight, touch, taste, hearing. Hearing! The sound of her voice, maybe. Morgan looked back into the review mirror, "Hearing? Something they said?" Morgan waited for Prentiss to answer, but she didn't. She kept staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts. "Prentiss? What's going on with you?"

"Wh-with me?"

"We've been off since James showed up." Morgan said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"No, we haven't," Prentiss denied, shaking her head.

"You're acting like you're upset with me."

"Well, I'm not," Prentiss told him.

"We've been friends for five, six years now. I understand if you're upset, Emily. I'd be upset with you if you… lied to me like I have to you," Morgan turned around to look at her. "I'm sorry I never told you, Emily. I… I couldn't. I know that doesn't make sense, but I –"

"I'm not upset," Prentiss looked out the window before looking back at him. "Everyone has their secrets. Yours aren't my business anymore than mine are yours."

Morgan studied her face before turned back to face the front again, thinking about her cryptic answer. She looked worried. "I've been watching you the last couple of days and something is obviously bothering you."

"Derek, because I like you, I'm gonna ask you not to do this. Please." She met his eyes in the mirror and Morgan saw a mixture of fear and pleading. Morgan closed his eyes for a second and then turned his head, effectively ending the moment by not saying anything. Prentiss sniffed in disgust. "Gugh, it smells back here."

Morgan's thoughts stopped.

Smell.

"_The sense of smell is considered by some to be the most powerful of the human senses. It's not the most evolved sense, that would be sight, but our sense of smell can immediately invoke a memory with vivid intensity, even if the memory is decades old. That's because the sense of smell is the first developed sense. Smell is also the only sense that's circuitry travels straight through the memory cortex before continuing on to the rest of the brain. That's why we associate smells with memories and peppermint makes you think of Christmas."_

Citrus. Whenever he smelt citrus, he thought of Sammie. Her shampoo was some blend of citrusy smells and any type of citrus, orange, lemon, lime, grapefruit, it didn't matter which, any whiff of citrus and his thoughts immediately brought her to the forefront.

Morgan looked into the rearview mirror and met Prentiss' eyes. They were both thinking the same thing.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_ "Heaven will hold you before we do, Heaven will keep you safe until we're home with you. Until we're home with you. We miss you everyday, miss you in every way, but we know there's a day when we will hold you, we will hold you. And you'll kiss our tears away, when we're home to stay, but baby let sweet Jesus hold you, until mom and day can hold you. You'll just have Heaven before we do."_

Derek's head lulled forward as they flew over squares after squares of Oklahoma farmland. It was just past one in the morning, the flight was only half over, and Derek was half asleep. He was in that strange sort of slumber where he wasn't completely unaware of his surroundings, but was still immersed in his own subconscious.

_ "Sweet little baby, it's hard to understand it 'cause we are hurting, we are hurting, but there is healing and we know we're stronger people through the growing and in knowing."_

The Watermark song played through his Bose headset, soothing away the image of Steven's body severed mid-chest, still sitting in his cab with his recorder playing, and the Christmas his mother-in-law gave him the CD filtered through his mind. Derek sighed deeply, his forehead against the cold wall of the airplane. He didn't have the deep faith of his in-laws, but _Glory Baby_ had always resonated in his soul.

"Derek?" Andria smiled at him and he looked up to see her dark eyes sparkling at him. Smiling back, he stood and stepped into her open arms, bending down enough to kiss her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey, Mama."

"_Buon Natale_," Andria kissed his cheeks and stepped back, releasing him back into the warm glow of the living room, with family laughing loudly, fireplace crackling and popping, and the sparkling Christmas tree bright enough to light the room by itself.

"_Buon Natale_, Mama."

"Derek! C'mere!" Viviana waved him over to the corner where she sat with a few of their other cousins around their age. His three-year-old cousin mauled him on the way over and, by the time Derek managed to get across the room, Leo was sitting on his shoulders. The second Leo saw the plate of biscotti he wiggled until Derek put him down.

Derek was on his second glass of wine, laughing at a joke James made at Claudio's expense, when the piano struck a soft note by the fireplace. Turning, he smiled at the sight of his angel sitting at the piano with her eyes closed, just letting the music move her fingers over the keys to put sound to whatever melody played out in her head. The sounds were distinctly Christmas, but nothing he'd heard before now.

Getting up, Derek walked over and sat on the bench next to her. He waited until she'd stopped playing before leaning over and kissing her soft cheek. "Beautiful, Angel," he whispered against his cheek and she smiled the shy, bashful smile she always gave when he complimented her. "Just like you."

"Kiss me, Superman," her breath was warm on his lips and he smiled. He lifted his hands and cupped the back of her head, letting her hair slide through his fingers as he pressed his lips to hers.

"That's gross," a little girl voice behind them sounded annoyed and Derek smiled into the kiss. He gave Sammie a second kiss before turning to look at the nine-year-old with light caramel skin and crinkly brown pigtails staring at them with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Smelly Ellie," Derek laughed at her scowl and held out his arm. Reluctantly, the gangly girl shuffled over, letting her dad lift her up onto his lap and kissing him before leaning against his chest. "How many cannoli have you eaten? Two? Three? Fifteen? A hundred?"

"Six."

"How did you get your nonna to give you six cannoli?" Derek chuckled and snuggled Ellie close. "Did you bribe her?"

"Uncle James gave me one," Ellie started listing her suppliers, counting off on her fingers. "Then nonna, and bisnonna. Cousin Tony and then I got one and –"

"And then I gave you one," Sammie giggled, rolling her eyes and reaching out to smooth down a few of her daughter's flyaway curls. Ellie gave her a wide, mischievous smile. "You little sneak-thief."

"Ellie Belly, how about you and I dance?" Derek tickled her sides and picked her up as he stood. He led Ellie just to the left of the grand piano and they started turning in a circle as Sammie played _It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas_. Ellie stood on the tops of Derek's feet, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand holding his. It was a moment he never wanted to end.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

It was well past three in the morning by the time he slipped his key into the lock in his front door. Alexandria's West End neighbourhood he lived in was silent at this time, no lights in windows or porch lights, no cars in the streets. Derek was the most life the cul-de-sac had to show in that moment.

Derek flipped the light in the entryway as he closed and locked the door behind him. Silence greeted him, the air chilled and house void of any sort of activity. It felt cold. Derek leaned his suitcase against the wall and locked his guns in the drawer by the door.

Shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over the couch as he kicked his shoes off, he noticed the laundry basket wasn't on the coffee table like he left it. Instead, it had been knocked to the ground with its contents strewn across the floor. Clooney had gotten bored.

Closing his eyes, Derek waited. He hated that the house always felt this way when he got home. It never felt like a home when he first walked in. Cold walls, rooms with no warmth or anything to happily invite him inside. He heard Crookshanks slink into the room, a piece of glossy magazine paper crinkling beneath his paw. Clooney wasn't far behind him. The German shepherd trotted into the room, bringing the life into the room with him. Warmth flooded the house as Clooney wagged his tail so forcefully that he ended up hopping slightly on his lone hind leg.

"Hey, boy," Derek kissed his nose, scratching behind his ears as the dog sat on his haunches and put his front paws on Derek's thighs. Clooney licked his face, whining, acting like Derek had been gone for years. "I missed you too, Cloon. I see you tried to help with the laundry? Were you trying to read that magazine too? Is that how it got shredded? Had a little trouble turning the pages, huh?"

"Hey, Handsome," Sammie came out of the bedroom in her pajamas, her bare feet poking out from beneath her flannel bottoms. She padded out into the living room and stopped just a few feet from him. "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too, Sammie-Girl," Derek stood, letting the dog shift back to the floor. He took the few steps towards her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as her stomach would let him and kissing her. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled down at her. "Mmm, I love you."

"I love you too," Sammie kissed him again, then backed away with her hand rubbing over her stomach. "I'm hungry. I hope we have pickles. Oh. And olives. And maybe some chocolate. Ohhh, marzipan. Marzipan in pickle juice. We don't have any marzipan."

Derek laughed and followed her into the kitchen. He hopped up onto the counter and watched her fish around in the fridge and freezer before coming up with pork chops, marinara sauce, green olives and caramel meant for sundaes. She built a concoction that made Derek fight his gag reflex.

"Hush you," she laughed at his face. "This is your fault."

"I'm sorry," he smiled.

"No, you're not, don't lie to me," Sammie brandished her fork as she put the plate into the microwave and gave it thirty seconds. Derek grabbed her wrist and tugged her to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and nuzzling her neck. He kissed her exposed collarbone and up the curve of her neck. He had just caught her ear between his teeth when the phone rang shrilly, breaking the warmth of the moment.

Derek blinked, the microwave blinked that his pork chop was done and he sidestepped Clooney to get to the phone. He recognized Aaron's number and picked up, looking around the empty kitchen. The conversation was short: the team didn't have to come in until ten the next day and then goodbye. Frustrated and bitter, Derek slammed the phone back down into its cradle.

"Sam?" Derek closed his eyes as he whispered her name and waited. He opened his eyes, but the only thing waiting for him was his food. "Dammit, Hotch. Sam, Angel? C'mon, Sammie."

Resting his elbows on his knees, he caught his head in his palms. He hated this part. The empty, hollow ache that came with a violent disruption like Hotch's phone call killed him slowly, like a wound to the gut.

With a deep sigh, Derek pulled his plate from the microwave, carried it to the kitchen table and sat down. He reached out, pressed the play button on his CD player and waited for the clarinet to start playing through the speakers. Lifting his fork to his mouth, Derek stared at the framed picture in front of him. Sammie smiled at him from behind the pane of glass. Derek put down his fork. He wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I write best at night. But I have to be up during the day. Work. School. Ugh. Why can't I write during the day? Maybe there's too many distractions. BAH! I kept getting distracted by the internet earlier today. Honestly, that thing is so rude. It should be more considerate.**

**I'm watching NCIS right now. I already watched disk one of season one. I can't find disk two, so I'm onto disk three. Also, it's raining. Hard. Earlier, I watched Captain America for the first time. It was pretty nifty. Tomorrow, I'll watch Iron Man.**

**So. There's this guy. I have a huge crush on him, but I highly doubt he remembers I exist and I won't see him again until October at the earliest. He's not that cute. He's kinda ugly, really. I call him either Potatohead (because his face is lumpy) or Quasimodo, because his face reminds me of Quasimodo, what with the fact that he has a protruding forehead and sad, puppy dog eyes and a slightly rectangular head. Yeah... he's kinda like a bulldog. He's ugly, but kinda cute in his ugliness. Ugh. I think about him way too much. I need to get over this stupid boy. Help.**

**I'm gonna go to bed now.**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Of course, in a novel, people's hearts break, and they die and that is the end of it; and in a story this is very convenient. But in real life we do not die when all that makes life bright dies to us." – Harriet Beecher Stowe_

o o o o

28 January, 2011

Derek laughed like he hadn't laughed in a long time. James walked next to him, an equally wide smile gracing his face. Heads followed the brothers as they walked through the FBI Academy, heading for the elevators that would take them up to the BAU.

"Anyways, I didn't tell you, because I'm not ready for Mom to know. The minute she finds out, all hell's gonna break loose," James rolled his eyes. "Her name's Kay. Kay MacMahon."

"That is not an Italian name," Derek raised his eyebrows.

"Neither is Derek Morgan. Or Tom Murdoch for that matter. Mom must have passed along her bad taste in mates to her spawn."

"Oh, wow, comparing me to your father? That's cold, man. That's cold," Derek shoved James lightly, a smile still playing on his face.

"Her name's Kay MacMahon and she's amazing," James spoke a bit louder to change the subject.

"MacMahon?" Derek asked as he hit the button for the elevator. "Hold on. MacMahon, like Gavin MacMahon?"

"She's his sister," James grinned sheepishly and Derek let out a bellowing laugh.

"You're dating your striker's sister. This is great." Derek kept laughing as the elevator door closed in front of them. "I thought teammates siblings were off-limits. Does Gavin know?"

"Know? Mac's the one that introduced us."

"So you've been dating this girl for nine months and haven't told Mom or anybody else yet?" Derek looked at James and James just grimaced. "You are in such deep shit, man."

"I know," James groaned, running a hand through his brown hair and making some of it stick up on end. "I'm screwed."

"So where is she? She can't be in Chicago with you, because I would have heard the explosion from here."

"Kay's still in Houston. She teaches physics at Rice University."

"So she's the smart one in the relationship," Derek ribbed him as the elevator doors opened.

"Well," James grinned, "I had a soccer scholarship to Indiana and she went to Oxford on a full academic scholarship. I play a game for a living and she has a Ph.D. Draw your own conclusions."

"Well, she's definitely the dumb one," Derek laughed as they walked through the glass doors into the bullpen and James raised his eyebrows, a smile playing on his lips. "She's with your ass, isn't she? Shows really poor decision making skills."

"Anyways, I'm bringing her to the party in April, so you better be there to meet her," James told him as they walked through the bullpen. Derek smiled and looked away as he started talking.

"Of course I'm going to be there. I've already got my – where did you get that?" Derek stopped still right behind Spencer's desk and stared at the file open in front of him. An all too familiar face stared back at him from the mug shot paper clipped to the left side. "Where the hell did you get that, Reid!"

"It was in the cold case files Hotch gave him to profile," Spencer sputtered.

"Give me that," Derek reached over and snatched the file away from him, slamming it closed and stalking up the stairs to Aaron's office as Spencer and Emily stared after him. James thinned his lips and bent down to pick out a sheet of paper that has slipped onto the floor.

"I – I'm sorry," James apologized to Derek's teammates, holding the paper in two hands. "My sister… Derek, he… I'm sorry." With that, James hurried across the bullpen and up the stairs after Derek, who was already in Aaron's office.

"Why did you give him this?" Derek hissed angrily, leaning over and slamming Nick Farese's file down on Aaron's desk. "No one's supposed to have this case except you or me."

"I'm sorry, Morgan, I don't know how that file got in there," Aaron shook his head with a sigh. "I didn't mean to give Reid that file."

"Farese is off-limits," Derek practically growled the sentence. "No one looks at that file. No one."

"I know you don't want to share with this, but we might be able to help," Aaron picked up the file and opened it. "It's been cold for nine years. We might be able to help, if you let us."

"No," Derek said firmly at the same moment that James said "Yes" with decisive conviction. Shocked, Derek wheeled around on his brother and stared in disbelief. "James!"

"No, Derek," James crossed his arms over his chest and stood his ground, "you aren't the only one who's been waiting a decade to get him. Nick destroyed everything and I'm tired of knowing he's out there not paying for what he did. If they can help, let them help."

"No."

"Why don't you want help?" James challenged. Aaron watched the two stare each other down, getting a profiler's feel for the dynamic of the relationship. "You'd rather let Nick kill someone else than accept some help from your team? You're really going to be that stubborn? You'd rather let him be out there free, wherever the hell he is doing whatever the hell he's doing, than give up control of his case."

"That's not it," Derek shot back. "This is private. It was _my _wife, it was _my_ daughter. This is _my_ case and I –"

"_My_ sister, _my_ niece, and _my_ sister's best friend. Nick is a murderer. That's it. He's a murderer and your pride is keeping him from the death penalty. Your pride is keeping this from finally being over."

"Nick's gone," Derek matched James' calm tone, fully aware of Aaron observing the entire thing. "I've done everything there is to do. He's disappeared off the grid. I've done everything. There's nothing left to try. I've chased down every possible lead, even if it was just a wisp. There's nothing. The bastard's disappeared. He's completely off the grid. He could be dead. Hell, he could be in North Korea for all the information out there."

"This needs to end, Derek."

"Look," Aaron finally stood. "The case is about as cold as a case can get. A little longer isn't going to make much more difference. Nothing has to be decided today. I'm sorry Reid got the file, Derek. It was a mistake I should have caught."

Derek sighed and ran a hand over the bottom of his face. "I know," he admitted, "I know. Look, I've got to take him to the airport. I just needed to come grab my keys from my office. I'll be back in an hour."

"Take your time."

"I'm still babysitting Jack this evening, right?"

"Yes, at four, thanks," Aaron nodded. Derek returned his nodded and lead James out of the office with a final goodbye to Aaron. James followed Derek through the bullpen and down the hallway to Derek's office. James stopped and stared at the photographs as Derek walked around the desk to open the drawer and grab his keys.

"Your office looks more like I thought it'd look now," James leaned against the door jam. "I remember that day. The soccer game at your birthday party. I was washing mud out of my hair for two hours. I never did get those gloves clean."

"I think I still have some mud in my ear," Derek joked, but there was no laughter in his voice as he closed the drawer, keys in hand. "Everyone back home… they think I'm holding on too tightly, don't they?"

"It doesn't matter what they think," James shook his head.

"That's a yes."

"No, it's not. No one blames you for holding on. We all held on. They – we just want you to heal. Nick took everything that was important to us. He destroyed our lives, but it's been nine years. Nine years and you're still letting what he did control your life," James paused and looked down at his shoes before looking back into Derek's eyes. "I know you love my sister and I'm glad you love her. She deserved that, especially from a man like you. You're the best brother I could have hoped for, Derek. But it's been nine years. Nick took your family, our family, but you're giving him your future too. It's time to let go. A decade of wearing black is a long time. "

"James, it's not that simple. He took my family. He took my baby girl and he took my wife. He took my future with them, watching Ellie grow up and growing old with Sammie. You don't just decide to move on. I still love Sam as much right now as I did the day I married her. How do you tell that to another woman? 'I really like you, but I'm still in love with my wife.'"

James sighed. "I guess this is an argument for another day."

"Considering your flight leaves in two hours and it'll take forty minutes to get to Reagan, we'd better go now."

"Wait," James caught Derek's arm and held him back as he tried to pass. "Just… Derek, I… shit. When you came home from undercover, I was angry. I was so angry at you for leaving us."

"For running away," Derek supplied, quietly, quoting the words James had shouted at him the last time they spoke before Derek went undercover.

"Yeah, for running away. I was so angry. I never apologized for what I did when I gave you those bracelets."

"It was forgiven a long time ago," Derek said, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder and waited until the blue eyes reluctantly looked up to meet his. "Besides, I deserved it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"AUNT CALLIE!" Five-year-old Jack Hotchner ran away from Derek's side as they rounded a corner in the National Gallery of Art's east building and Calliope Sellers came into view. Calliope turned away from the preparator she was talking to when she heard the happy squeal and grinned. Squatting down, the tiny redhead held out her arms and scooped Jack up into a hug, kissing his cheek as she stood.

"Oofff, you're getting heavy, Buddy," Calliope rubbed her nose against Jack's and Jack wrapped his arms around her neck. Derek looked around, searching for the little monster he knew had to be around here somewhere, and wasn't surprised when something small attacked his legs from behind, growling like a lion. Bending down, Derek lifted the little girl up by the back of her blue and white polka dot dress and held her up in front of him, smiling as she continued to growl and show tiny white teeth.

"Hey there, Nala," Derek greeted Spencer and Calliope's three-year-old daughter Emeline before shifting her into a normal holding position. Emeline growled again and started gnawing on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Der," Calliope said, walking over with Jack. "She just watched _The Lion King_ and won't stop pretending she's a lion."

"Yeah, Reid told me." Derek kissed Emeline's crinkly brown hair. "He said he found her chewing Perses' tail last night."

"Yup, and Pers just sat there letting her," Calliope rolled her eyes. "That dog's so weird."

"Those are beautiful, Cal," Derek stepped past Calliope, reaching out and lightly squeezing her thin arm as he did, and took in the paintings leaning against temporary partition walls erected around the floor. The mostly grey-scale paintings all had one point of colour in them. The one he stopped in front of was a landscape of a lakeshore and the only colour came from the sun. "Who's this?"

"Haley," Calliope mouthed over Jack's head and Derek nodded.

"She'd have loved it."

"There's a bag of pamphlets over there naming the pieces."

"This is all going to be ready in a week?"

"I sure hope so," Calliope let out a huge sigh. "Putting together the exhibit is the worst part. I need twice as much caffeine on these days."

"Your body can handle twice as much caffeine? You already drink, what, twenty cups a day?" Derek grinned at her, shifting Emeline in his arms as she craned around to see her mother.

"Ha, ha," Calliope stuck her tongue out at him and set Jack down on the ground. "Eme, stop it."

"Maman, I'm hungry," she pouted and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Derek gently pulled the thumb back down.

"What do you think, Cal? Think these rug rats deserve dinner?"

"I dunno… Maybe just some cold gruel."

"Brussels sprouts," Derek suggested.

"I know a restaurant that only serves liver and onions."

"Ewww," Jack giggled, "I want a cheeseburger, Aunt Callie. Liver's gross!"

"How do you know, Goober? Have you ever tried liver? Maybe it tastes like cake. Wouldn't you want cake for dinner?"

"Then why can't I just have cake?" Jack asked.

Calliope started laughing and ruffled his short blonde hair. "Okay, cheeseburger it is. How about Matchbox?" A shout of happiness went up from both children and Jack jerked Calliope a bit as he jumped up and down holding her hand. "Okay, okay, we'll go to Matchbox. But first, go find your favourite painting and show me which one."

Derek put Emeline down and she chased after Jack as they ran through the gallery to look at all the paintings. Calliope watched the two for a second before turning to Derek and opening her arms. Smiling, Derek took two steps and bent down to hug her. When he stepped back, Calliope reached her hands up and grabbed each side of his face, studying his eyes.

"Hmmm" was her only comment as she let go. Derek rubbed his jaw and raised and eyebrow at her.

"Hmmm?"

"Yes, hmmm."

"Is this a good 'hmmm' or a bad 'hmmm,' yogini?"

"I see congratulations are in order," Calliope nodded at his left hand. "But you're not happy. You should be happy."

"Life's complicated, Cal."

"You're telling me," Calliope tilted her head towards the tourists taking their picture from the stairs, the top of which had been roped off. "Excuse me, cell phones are not allowed to be used in the gallery."

"Feisty today," Derek grinned.

"I'm tired of having my picture taken. And I don't want my paintings photographed. I mean, you shouldn't be able to see anything through the cases from that distance, but still. Besides, the last thing I need is a picture of us getting out on the Internet when I'm planning my wedding to String Bean. Unless, of course, you really want another love triangle conspiracy."

"Naw, I'm good. Took long enough for me to clear up everything back home after the last one."

"I'm sorry about –"

Their conversation came to an abrupt halt when Jack and Emeline came running back to them, exclaiming over which one of the paintings where their favourite. It took a while to get the two to calm down and then Derek kept them occupied while Calliope oversaw the preparators moving the paintings from their spots by the walls onto a large cart and then back into the vault. By the time they left, the gallery had long since closed to the public.

"How did you paint that many paintings?" Derek asked as the four of them walked out of the gallery into the night towards their cars. Derek had parked his green Camaro next to her Porsche.

"I don't drink my weight in caffeine for my health."

Both children wanted to ride with Derek, but Calliope shook her head, not feeling comfortable wedging Emeline's car seat into the small back seat in Derek's sports car. In the end, Derek moved Jack's booster seat from his car to the back of Calliope's SUV. From the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek leaned out the window and called to Calliope, who was putting the top down on the Camaro.

"I'll meet you at Matchbox."

Calliope gave him a thumbs up before tying her hair back and punching the radio to the eighties station. _Billie Jean_ started playing as Calliope pulled the car out after Derek and followed him onto Forth Street.

"Okay, guys, _Toy Story_ or _Finding Nemo_?" Derek slipped the _Toy Story_ soundtrack into the CD player and started singing with them as the first song started playing. Checking in the review mirror, Derek saw Calliope still behind them as they turned left onto the streetlight-lit Independence Avenue.

They were driving down Pennsylvania Avenue, just entering the intersection with Seventh Street, when Derek saw it. The Mercedes speeding down Seventh wasn't slowing for it's red light. If Derek kept going or slammed on his breaks, the sedan would collide right into the backseat of the SUV. The Mercedes crossed into the intersection and Derek slammed on his breaks, jerking the wheel to the left as hard as he could.

Screams melded with the earsplitting screech of metal merging together as the two cars met nose to nose. The airbag exploded in Derek's face as the front of the SUV crumpled and he jerked forward and then back, slamming his head into the headrest. The SUV went forwards as far as it could into the Mercedes and jerked violently backwards when the wheels and axel stopped any forward trajectory. Derek's head bashed into the door as the Porsche left the ground and landed on it's two front wheels before bouncing backwards to the left. They rocked onto the side wheels and Derek clenched his jaw and prayed.

* * *

**A/N:**

**LB: Guess what?**

**Me: Hmmm?**

**LB: PROMETHEUS.**

**Honestly, I love my little brother. I was sitting at the kitchen table finishing the last paragraph of this chapter and he stopped as he was leaving the kitchen to go into his bedroom and did this. He's pretty much the best. I don't know what I'd do without my Munchkin.**

**I was going to go for a bike ride today. Instead, I wrote roughly 2,000 words and watched NCIS. Oops. Do you know how many car crash tests I watched to make sure I wrote the crash realistically? WAY TOO MANY. I've only been in one car accident and I really can't remember much of it. Anyways, ohhhhh what's gonna happeeeeeeen? I dunno.**

**HAPPY, REN? HAPPY? ARE YOU HAPPY? I hope so because, if you're not, I'm hunting you down and smacking you in the face. All because I love you, of course.**

**So Ellie Goulding is crazy popular on my radio stations right now, which is really weird for me. I found her music through a fanfic I was reading, like, almost two years ago and YouTubed her, because I wanted to hear the music I was reading. (I do that all the time, by the way, because I'm way too curious for my own good.) Anyways, I liked her music, so I, uh, procured it in a not so, uh, good? way. IT WASN'T OUT TO BE PURCHASED IN THE STATES, I'M SORRY. So I never heard it anywhere but my iPod. I hadn't listened to her in a long time and then all of a sudden I was listening to the radio and Lights started playing. So I got out my iPod and started listening to her music again. Well, actually, I figured she was available in the US now, so I went to iTunes and actually bought the album and deleted my, uh, other set. Well, except for the tracks that aren't available in the US. Because I'm my grandfather's granddaughter. Anyways, now I've been listening to her for the past week and remembering why I fell in love with the YouTube videos a bazillion years ago. "Starry Eyes," "Writer" and "Under The Sheets" are my favourites. Though, I really love her version of "Your Song" too. Oh and "The End" and "Little Dreams." And "Human."**

**Why do artists do that? Why do they make some songs only available in one country? Do they really think people in other countries wouldn't want them? I want the entire Bright Lights album, not just the Lights she released here. Bah. So silly. They'd probably make a lot more money if they released all of the music everywhere instead of just certain songs in certain places. Whatever.**

**Okay. I'm off. Bye guys!**

**Thanks so much for reading and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"You may not love me today, tomorrow or ever, but I will love you until it kills me, and, even then, you'll be in my heart." - Author Unknown_

o o o o

28 January, 2011

The light was too bright.

His head was foggy and every bone in his body ached.

He felt like he'd been hit by a truck - no, not a truck. A Mercedes.

Derek blinked and tried to focus, but the ceiling swam in front of his eyes. Groaning, he leaned his head back further into the uncomfortable pillow. That hurt. Pain shot from his back down his legs and he groaned again.

"Hey there, Superman. Stop that," Penelope García stood from the chair she'd been sitting in along the wall and hurried over to him, dropping her knitting haphazardly in the seat next to her.

"Ungh, Baby Doll."

"Do you need the nurse? 'Cause I can totally get the nurse for you, Handsome." Penelope squeezed his hand, resisting the urge to fall back into the hysterics she'd already overcome. She'd come in and seen his scraped face and the stitched on his forehead and broken down into panic.

"Eme and Jack. Are the kids okay?"

"They're fine, Derek. Shaken up and a little bruised from their seat belts, but they're gonna be fine. You saved their lives, Superman." Penelope smiled at him and Derek sighed in relief. "Hotch called your mom and told her about the car accident. Then he talked her out of flying to D.C. She wants you to call her as soon as you're up to it. I'm gonna text her your awake, okay?"

Derek nodded. "My cell phone -"

"Right here," Penelope handed him the iPhone and Derek entered the password with the hand without an IV taped to it. "You have... a few texts. And, since I know you're going to ask, yes."

"Mom told Mama," Derek shook his head and then winced. Derek responded to one text and then dropped the phone. "By now half of Chicago knows I was in a car accident and half of Chicago thinks I was killed in an explosion."

"You can't tell a woman anything," Penelope said seriously. "Speaking of telling women things, I'm gonna tell the nurse you're awake."

Derek nodded again and, when she'd left, looked back at the phone, reading and re-reading the last message in the white text bubble.

Are you okay?

"Hey there, Agent Morgan," a plump nurse with thinning brown hair smiled down at him from behind cat eye glasses. "Glad to see you're awake."

"Me too," Derek smiled and hit the lock button on his iPhone. The nurse checked his vitals and the cut on his forehead and then Hotch came in with the doctor. One-by-one the team and J.J. filtered through, except for Spencer. Calliope came in last, with a teary Emeline on her hip. "Hey, it's okay, Monster."

Derek held out his arms to the little girl and Calliope put Emeline down at the end of the bed. Her warning to be gentle was lost on the child as she crawled over Derek's legs to glue herself to his chest with her arms shoved around his neck. Emeline wailed as Derek stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay, Monster. I'm alright."

"I was scared," she sobbed and Derek kept cuddling her. Emeline cried for so long that she fell asleep on Derek's chest.

"You're good with her," Calliope commented, sitting in the chair Penelope had been sitting in when he woke up. Derek ran his hand up and down Emeline's back and gave Calliope a weak smile.

"She reminds me of what my daughter would have been, what I missed with her. How long have you known about my daughter and my wife, Cal?"

"Since before we met. When I started dating Spencer. I'm so sorry, Der. No one should have to go through that."

"How much do you know?"

"Everything," Calliope looked down at her hands.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Derek asked. "You never said anything to anybody. You didn't tell Reid or Penelope. You never said anything to me."

"Neither did you. How long have you been with this team? They're family and they had no idea, except for Aaron. You never told them about your family, your wife, your daughter, your brother, the hell you'd been through before you met them," Calliope picked at her jeans. "I knew your secrets and I had no right to tell them to anyone, much less people you chose not to tell. I didn't know why you didn't tell them, but you didn't, so I didn't. You are my brother, Der. I'd never betray you."

"I miss them," Derek said, looking right into her eyes. "I miss them every single day. I come home from a case and my daughter's bedroom is nothing but boxes of baby things that were never used where there should be posters of Justin Bieber and Hannah Montana. I walk into my bedroom at two in the morning and my bed is empty. I don't come home to kiss my wife, I don't read my daughter bedtime stories."

"You don't even say their names," Calliope leaned forward and propped her elbows on her knees. "I didn't understand before, why you didn't tell anyone, but I understand now. You're protecting them. Protecting your memory of them. Telling people who didn't know and love them like you do... it might change your memories. You don't say their names. You're saying 'my daughter' and 'my wife.' You haven't called them Samantha or Elaine once. You keep them, their names, close - to protect them."

"You spend too much time with profilers, Cal," Derek shook his head.

"No - well, yes, but that's not the point," Calliope grinned and Derek laughed. "I know you, Derek. Sisters know their brothers... just like brothers know their sisters."

"No one calls them Samantha and Elaine. My wife is Sam or Sammie. My daughter is Ellie. Sam and I couldn't decide on a name for her; she wanted Elaine and I wanted Elizabeth. We ended up just referring to her as Ellie."

"And you choose Sam's favourite name when she was born," Calliope finished. Derek nodded. "Thank you for saving Eme and Jack."

"My niece and nephew. I'd do anything to protect them. You know that."

"I know that."

There was a knock on the doorframe and they both looked up to see Spencer standing there. "Room for one more?"

"Actually, I was about to take Eme over to Jill's and put her to bed," Calliope stood and walked over to the hospital bed, bending over picking Emeline up off Derek's chest and shifting her to her shoulder. She kissed Derek's cheek. "Rest, Der. You're tired."

"García's still out in the waiting room," Spencer told them, giving Calliope a kiss and kissing Emeline's forehead. "She sent everyone else home. I'll be at Jill's later."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Calliope walked through the doorway and left Spencer and Derek alone, closing the door behind her. Neither one said anything as Spencer crossed the room and sat in the visitor's chair. Spencer sat, staring at his shoes.

"Hotch said you were okay."

"Doc says I'm gonna be sore, but I'm fine."

"Thank you for protecting Emeline."

"Always."

The silence returned and neither one of them spoke. They stayed silent for ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty. Derek turned on the television and flipped through the basic cable channels for a while. He'd flipped through the channels three times before turning the television off again and putting the remote back on the stand next to the bed.

"Do you remember the time you asked me if I'd ever cross the professional boundaries with a victim during a case?" Derek didn't look at him. He looked straight ahead at the cheap print of Starry Night on the opposite wall. "It was right after we got back from L.A. with Lila Archer and the stalker case."

"I remember," Spencer nodded. "But, if you don't mind, I'd rather we not bring up Lila. Especially not around Calliope. It's a sore subject."

Derek chuckled. "I said no, I had never crossed those lines. I lied to you, Reid. I did. Once. It was back when I was a cop. I was about six months or so out of the Police Academy. Twenty-three years old and greener than grass.

"Her name was Samantha Murdoch," Derek's eyes looked away from the print, but still avoided Spencer, choosing the stare at his hands instead. "I was off that day, but CSI was short a tech and I volunteered to do it if they told me what to do, both because I needed the money and because I wanted to make a good impression on my bosses, ya know… going the extra mile and all the stuff.

"October twenty-first, nineteen ninety-nine. I will never forget that day. I went out on a call. A suicide. It was the first suicide I'd seen in any capacity. Tom Murdoch. Sam's father. He committed suicide in their garage – shot himself in the head with a Colt Detective Special. A thirty-eight caliber. Titanium. Sammie was nineteen years old and a freshman at the University of Illinois. Her brother James was sixteen and a sophomore in high school."

"She was nineteen?" Spencer asked in alarm.

"Yes. She was nineteen at the time," Derek kept staring at his hands as he answered Spencer's question and then looked up and straight ahead, like he was seeing into the past. "Something in Sam's eyes. She was so devastated, she was completely destroyed, but she acted all tough. She refused to admit that she was in pain. I couldn't just walk away from her and do nothing. So I gave her my phone number and I told her to call if she needed to talk. Two days later, she called. She was in the garage and couldn't get the blood off the floor."

"They waited two days to clean the blood?"

"I didn't ask. I went over and I cleaned it. Scrubbed the cement. Later, I painted the garage floor so they didn't have to see the stain. Sammie and I… we became friends. Good friends. I... I understood her. She didn't know it, but she understood me too. I never told her about Carl Buford. I didn't want her to think I was - I was weak.

"Tom was a mean son-of-a-bitch. All Sammie and James ever wanted from him was his approval and his love and attention. He manipulated them and he beat them. He told them they were stupid and worthless until they believed it. I wanted to help her, them," Derek fell silent again and Spencer waited.

"I was falling in love with her and I knew it. I also knew something wasn't right. She had a boyfriend. Nick Farese and he was worse than Tom."

"She couldn't get her father's approval, so she tried to get the approval of a man like him," Spencer interjected. "It's very common for women with abusive fathers to fall into a pattern of abusive relationships."

"I tried to get her away from him, but she wouldn't. I finally confronted her when she had his handprint bruised to the back of her neck. We didn't talk for a long time after that, not until she showed up at my apartment at two in the morning. She was bleeding, her face was swollen and she was crying. I knew he was beating her. I didn't know he was raping her.

"I took her to the hospital. They took care of her, did a rape kit. I stayed with her through the entire thing. I held her hand and I promised I'd take care of her, that he'd never hurt her again. I loved her so much and I couldn't even admit it to myself, much less to her. Seeing her in so much pain killed me. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to rip his heart out with my bare hands. But I didn't. I believed in the system," Derek huffed and shook his head. "I didn't kill him. I should have. I got her to press charges instead, we took him to court. I testified. She did as well, but she was terrified. He was sentenced to fourteen years, parole available after seven."

"Her grandfather, George, had cancer and he died a few days before we went to trial. It was almost a blessing in disguise. George was in so much pain. The funeral was the day before Sammie and I were giving our testimonies. After the funeral, Sammie and I went for a walk. She needed to get away from the sadness, even if it were just for a few minutes.

"She kissed me. Hey. Don't look at me like that. She kissed me. But I didn't stop her. I should have, I knew it then and I know it now. But I didn't. I kissed her back. We got into a huge fight, because I said we couldn't do that again. I told her we could not get involved like that. Four months later, we were dating. She went back to school, we kept dating. A year later, she got pregnant. She was 21, I was 25."

"Jeeze…" Spencer exhaled for what felt like the first time since Derek started talking. He'd read the Marshall's file on the case only a few hours ago, he knew the facts of this story, but reading the file was so different from listening to Derek talking. He knew the file was truth, that everything in there had happened, but Derek made it come to life.

"Yeah. I got her pregnant. I asked her to marry me. At first she said no. She didn't want to get married if the only reason I asked because of the baby. She said she'd rather disgrace her family by being a single mom than be unhappily married. They're Italian. They're big on the disgracing the family thing. I said like hell I was going to let her take my baby away from me. I asked her again a week later, big romantic proposal. The whole nine yards. She was four months pregnant when we got married. And Nick was released from prison.

"I… I was out on patrol one night. October fifteenth. Oh-one. We got dispatched to a car accident. Two cars. When we got there, Keira'd been shot twice, but she was still alive. She said Farese had taken Sammie. I had my hands over the wound, trying to stop the some of bleeding, but she died before the medics got there. Farese had my girls.

"It was thirty minutes before we found them. I didn't get to see her. They took her straight to the hospital and she went into surgery. She had an emergency C-section, got the baby out and onto life support. The baby was a girl. Elaine Madison Morgan. She was 34 weeks. She wasn't going to live, we all knew it. I took her off of life support.

"My mom and sisters kept trying to get me to hold her, but I was too scared. I was afraid I'd hurt her. She was so tiny and fragile. My mom held her while she died, not me.

"I wasn't holding her when she died, Reid," Derek's expression was pained. His eyes were twisted shut and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. "The one time she needed me and I wasn't there. I stared at her for three hours after she died. I couldn't hold her, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't hold her, but couldn't let her go. Ellie would be nine years old right now."

The silence came again and Spencer didn't push.

"He beat her with a tire iron. The right side of her head was destroyed," Derek hung his head, his eyes closed against the painful images talking about this conjured. "Sammie… My Sammie was gone. She was alive, but gone. They had her on life support, but the damage to her brain was too severe. She was brain dead. The doctors said she might have lived a few days on life support, but not longer than that. And, even if her body were able to survive by some miracle, she would just be a body. She would nev – She would never come back. She'd be a vegetable. So… I-I-I… I pulled the plug. I had them take her off of life support and I held her hand waited for her to die.

"But she didn't. She held on. Don't ask me how or why, I have no idea and neither did the doctors. She held on for a month, I stayed with her, slept on a cot in the room. She opened her eyes October fifteenth. She came home in January. She was so different, the trauma to her brain changed her. She was angry at everything, especially me. She hated me. She left me and filed for divorce and got it through a crooked judge. I never signed any papers. I didn't want to sign any papers. I don't want to be divorced.

"I went undercover, James says I was running. Maybe I was. I went to Detroit, helped take down the Black Mafia Family. Then I went home. Eighteen months. I missed her, them, all of them, I missed them so much. I went back home, I went to the Murdoch's house and James opened the door. Hand me my wallet, Reid."

Spencer handed him the wallet and Derek flipped it open. He pulled three strips of red plastic from the billfold, strips that looked similar to the one around his own wrist.

"James handed these to me. He handed these to me and said 'We needed you.' and closed the door."

"Hospital bracelets," Reid looked forward to get a better look at the bracelets, but didn't reach out to touch them. "Suicide risk? She attempted suicide?"

"Three times. The first one was the day I left for Detroit. I wasn't there when she needed me most. I promised her that I'd always take care of her and I didn't. I didn't take care of her. I failed her. I miss her so much, Reid. I miss her so much."

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I can't imagine that kind of hell."

"I hope you never experience it, Reid. Never take them for granted, kid. It can be taken away."

* * *

**A/N:**

**This chapter kiLLED ME. I cried. I wanted to eat ice cream, but I didn't, because I was too lazy to go to the store. So I watched a lot of NCIS instead. I'm on the season nine finale right now. I'll start Criminal Minds season one next. I've already finished NCIS Los Angeles. I always rewatch the series before the next season starts because I'm a looooooser. And I'm okay with that.**

**I'm so excited about school. I love it so much. So, so, so much. I have homework to do, so I better go and do it or yeah, it'd be bad. I can't get behind. So I'm gonna go do that.**

**I hope you liked the chapter, thanks for reading!**

**Love, Thalia**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." - Maya Angelou_

o o o o

7 February, 2011

"Breath, Gia. It's gonna be alright," Morgan spoke into his cell phone as he rode in the elevator from the gym to the floor holding the BAU. "Yeah, I'll talk to Hotch and see what he says. Gia, Carmen's going to be found. I know four other girls have died. Carmen is not going to die. Yes, I promise I'll talk to him. I love you too, G. I'll call you later."

Hanging up on his cousin, Morgan leaned his head back. Back in Chicago, four teenage girls had been kidnapped, sexually abused for a fortnight and murdered. The fourth girl had been dumped two days ago and a fifth girl, one of his cousin's friends, abducted yesterday.

The elevator doors opened and he walked out and pushed through the glass doors into the bullpen. He didn't go to his office or to the bathroom to change into his suit. Instead, he walked up to Hotch's office. Closing the door behind him, Morgan saw Hotch looking at him expectantly.

"I need you to take a look at a case. It's a bad one. In Chicago."

"The abducted girls," Hotch nodded. "I saw it on the news. It's been all over."

"Another girl was abducted yesterday. Carmen Parma. She's eighteen, a senior in high school. She's part of the parish at San Giovanni Battista. She's the fifth girl to go missing, Hotch. The first four are dead and Chicago PD is no closer to finding this guy than they were after the first girl went missing."

"We haven't been invited in, Morgan."

"Get us invited in. Hotch, Carmen's my cousin's friend. I know her. Distantly, but I still know her. I can't let her be -" Morgan lost his words before he could finish the sentence and, having seen the news coverage, Hotch understood why.

"I'm not making any promises, but I'll see what I can do. Go change. Brief at nine."

When Morgan walked into the round table room thirty minutes alter, Hotch was handing Reid a manila folder and the others were flipping through their iPads. Hotch nodded at him as he sat down between Rossi and Prentiss and picked up his own iPad.

"We're going to Chicago," Hotch said.

"They finally called us in?" Rossi asked, looking up from the document he was skimming. Hotch nodded noncommittally and then gestured at García to put the photos up on the plasma.

"On December 12th, Meghan Alexander was abducted. The unsub held her hostage for 13 days, dumped on December 25rd on the front steps of Holy Name Cathedral. The next day, December 26th, Annemarie Holthe was abducted. She belonged to Holy Name Cathedral."

"So, the first victim was dumped on the steps of the church that the second victim belonged to?" Prentiss clarified. "Was the first victim religious?"

"Meghan belonged to St. Clements Roman Catholic Church," Reid answered without looking up from his files.

"Annemarie was dumped on January 8th at St. Mary of the Angels Parish. January 9th, Tobin Green was abducted. She belonged to St. Mary's. She was dumped January 22nd at St. Alphonsus Catholic Church. January 23rd, Sandra Gomez was abducted. Again, she belonged to St. Alphonsus. She was dumped February 5th at San Giovanni Battista. February 6th, yesterday, Carmen Salafia was abducted."

"And Carmen belonged to San Giovanni," Rossi finished.

"He always abducts his victims on Saturday evening and dumps them very early Sunday morning."

"They're all seniors in high school," Seaver observed. "Seventeen and eighteen years old. And they're all active in Catholic churches."

"But different Catholic churches," Prentiss said. "None of them belong to the same church. There doesn't seem to be any overlap in their lives. Different schools, different areas of town, different extra curricular groups. The only crossover is the age and religion."

"These girls are extensively tortured before they die," Reid flipped a page and looked up. "Their bodies are covered in burns, repeated sexual assault, beaten, cut and mutilated... They're starved and deprived of water... But none of that's how he kills them. He does all this sadistic torture and then he crucifies them."

"Crucifixion?" Seaver blanched. "Like, Jesus died on the cross, crucifixion?"

"One and the same."

"Two of the girls died from blood loss, one from dehydration, and one from infection."

"Any idea what the significance there was with starting with St. Clements?" Prentiss asked, swiping through pictures.

"Not yet," Hotch shook his head.

"Maybe it was a church that rejected him?"

"Chicago PD talked to several people at the church," Reid shrugged. "They all said that no one was ever turned away."

"And what else are you going to say when a guy who might have been rejected at your church starts murdering people?" Rossi rolled his eyes.

"The plane's ready for you whenever you're ready to go," García said. She hadn't looked up from the table since she turned on the plasma.

"Morgan, anything you want to add?" Hotch looked at him, studying him.

"Carmen has barely 12 days to live. We'd better get going."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Is Morgan okay?" Prentiss asked Hotch as they deplaned in Chicago a little over two hours later. He'd contributed to the discussion, but mostly he'd sat fiddling with the ring on his left hand, lost in his own thoughts.

"He's fine," Hotch assured her.

"Hotch, I'm gonna head over to the San Giovanni," Morgan called over his shoulder, not actually giving Hotch a chance to say otherwise, and Prentiss hurried after him.

"Did García send you the address?" she fell into step beside him.

"I don't need it," Morgan tossed his go-bag in the back of the SUV and Prentiss did the same before hopping into the passenger's seat as he slammed the driver's side door closed. Rossi got in the back seat before Prentiss even realized he was behind them.

"You know the church?" Rossi latched his seatbelt and settled back against the seat.

"I got married there." Morgan stared straight ahead as he drove from the tarmac. It took forty minutes before they pulled into the parking lot behind the church. "Back door's over here."

Morgan walked through the heavy oak doors of the church he knew so well and fought hard to stay in the present. Very little had changed since he last crossed over that threshold. The carpet was different. Down the hall and through the door that led to the main foyer, there were a few new pictures on the "Lost Loves" wall. More than a few, he realized, after a second glance. He no longer recognized over half of the pictures. He found the one picture he'd always be able to find and then walked past, moving towards the largest meeting room off to the right. He stopped in the doorway to wait until the prayer finished.

Rossi and Prentiss stopped to see what picture Morgan had glanced at. It was easy to find. A much younger Derek had his arms wrapped around a very pregnant blonde woman and his cheek rested against the top of her head. The woman had a hand protectively over her stomach and she looked happy. They both smiled at the camera.

"Is that..."

"Yeah," Rossi nodded. "That's the woman in the pictures."

"She was cute."

"She was beautiful. No wonder he misses her."

"Why didn't he tell us?" Prentiss' tone was hushed. "We would have understood. We would have... been there, I don't know."

"Derek!" A petite, brunette teenager interrupted Rossi's response and they turned to see the girl dash across the foyer and launched herself at Morgan, who just caught her and hugged her tightly.

"It's gonna be okay, G," Morgan whispered in her ear and kissed the top of her head. "It's gonna be okay. We'll get Carmen back," Prentiss felt like a kid spying from behind a door and she kept her gaze averted until Morgan pulled away from the girl. "Prentiss, Rossi this is my baby cousin Gia Campaneillo. Gia, this is one of my teammates Emily Prentiss and David Rossi."

"Hi, Gia. Nice to meet you," Rossi smiled and shook Gia's hand.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Prentiss shook Gia's hand as well. "We're gonna do everything we can to get her back safely."

"Thanks. I… I know," Gia nodded and looked up at Morgan, squeezing his hand. "Derek's the superhero. He's gonna save the day. He always saves the day."

"Come 'ere, kid. You have a crazy imagination," Morgan smirked and pulled the girl back for another hug. He obviously adored his cousin. Prentiss had never realized how little she really knew about her co-worker. She'd worked with him for four years. Four years, almost five, and she knew so little about who he was and why he was that way. He stood five feet away from her with this cousin, had a picture of him, his wife, and unborn child hanging on the wall oh an Italian Catholic church, and was actually speaking in fluent Italian.

They had been working together for half a decade and she'd never thought about his extended family, had never known he had ever even had a semi-serious relationship, much less had been married with a child on the way, had never known he had a strong enough connection with Catholicism in any form to have his picture up in a church. He spoke Italian. Five years and she didn't even know he was bilingual. She saw him almost every single day, and she knew nothing about him.

_ "Sei qui, figlio mio! Vieni qui! Vieni qui!"_

Prentiss turned away from Morgan and Gia when a female voice exclaimed over the presence of her son. A plump brunette came out of the meeting room and Gia stepped away from Morgan so he could hold out his arms to the older woman. They exchanged kisses and the woman told him he needed to eat more and take better care of himself. Then she told him that if he didn't come have dinner with them, she'd never forgive him.

"Mama, I'm here to work," Morgan laughed.

"You still have to eat, baby boy," Andria chided him.

"Mama, these are two of my teammates -"

"Emily Prentiss and David Rossi," Andria finished for him, holding out her hand. "You talk about them enough, son, I know who they are. I'm Andria Murdoch, Derek's mother-in-law. Derek, shut up."

"Italian woman," Morgan muttered and tossed his hands up in exasperation. "Mouths bigger than the Grand Canyon. Mama, is Carmen's dad here?"

Word seemed to have spread through the church that Derek Morgan and members of his team were at the church. People came out of rooms and family came forward, greeting Morgan and being introduced to Prentiss and Rossi until they'd met so many brown-haired, olive-skinned relatives that they were dizzy and unable to remember any of them. The entire time, Prentiss felt eyes on their backs. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them.

One thing was apparent: No matter how unsure Morgan was of what he believed or how much time he spent away from Chicago, he was beloved as a brother and revered as a hero within these walls. "Sammie's Derek" and "FBI Derek" were whispered by younger children, teenagers stared and adults came up and shook his hand or hugged him.

Eventually, it died down and people returned to where they had come from.

"Mama, where's Emanuele?" Morgan asked again for Carmen's father and Andria led them towards the sanctuary. Morgan turned to Prentiss and Rossi. "Emanuele Salafia does not speak English. He immigrated from Bari five years ago after his wife died from pneumonia. San Giovanni is very insulated. They're guarded, they don't trust outsiders. They prefer to take care of their own. There are several Italian churches in Chicago, but this one's the only one where Italian is the first language. Much of the parish was born in Italy. Many of the older members of the church don't speak English; the ones who do don't like to. Rossi, do you -"

"No, I don't speak Italian. You and Prentiss are on your own for this one. I'm going to observe the church."

In the front row of the pews, an older gentleman with white hair in a black cassock sat next to a middle-aged man and a police officer was standing in front of them. Rossi slowed back, looking around the sanctuary at the pews, the stained glass windows, all exits and entrances. Morgan and Prentiss walked up to the group with a purpose.

"Emanuele?"

"Derek," Emanuele stood and hugged Morgan, a person he barely knew, like a man holding to a piece of driftwood in the middle of the ocean. Prentiss studied Emanuele's behaviour. Morgan represented hope, his daughter's last chance, and he would clinging to that hope until Carmen was found, whichever state she was found in.

"We will get Carmen back, Manny," Morgan assured him and Prentiss frowned. They never made promises like that. They said they were doing everything they could, they said they were following every possible lead, they said they had the best people working on the case - they _never_ promised the return of a victim. They couldn't promise that.

"Emily, this is Father Berlusconi," Andria made the introduction as Morgan spoke to the police officer and Emanuele.

"_Parlo italiano_," Prentiss assured Father Berlusconi that she spoke Italian as she shook his hand. Again, she felt the gaze on her back. This time, she turned to see a woman with a blonde braid leaving the sanctuary. As the woman turned the corner, Prentiss returned her gaze to the priest speaking to her.

"Welcome to our home."

"I wish the circumstances were different."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Okay, so Meghan was abducted while running, Annemarie's parents aren't sure what she was doing while abducted because she was supposed to be grounded for the evening for talking back to her mother," Hotch dictated as Reid wrote on the whiteboard. "Tobin - abducted while filling her gas tank. Sandra - coming home from work."

"Carmen was walking the dog," Morgan leaned back in his chair. "Sandra worked different hours and Annemarie wasn't where she was supposed to be, so we know the unsub is on the street, stalking his victims. Otherwise he wouldn't know where any of them would be. He knows these girls. He targets them, he plans this. One church to the next, specific girls."

"What would he have done if he couldn't get to his next victim on Sunday night?" Seaver asked. "What if Carmen had stayed inside all night? I mean, that's what I'd have done if a girl my age was supposed to be abducted from my church that evening. I'd be hiding under my bed with the doors locked."

"What if Annemarie was where she was supposed to be?" Reid asked, turning away from the board. "What if she never left the house? Voluntarily, I mean. These girls, nothing points to the fact that any of them would sneak out of the house. They're teenagers, anything's possible, but the friends and family interviewed seemed genuinely shocked that Annemarie would disobey a punishment."

"So it's someone they trust," Seaver suggested.

"But none of their paths crossed each other," Rossi argued. "There was no common person to trust."

"They're all devoutly Catholic. It could have been a priest. It would explain why crucifixion is the method of murder," Prentiss pointed out.

"It could have been a police officer too," Reid wrote the ideas on the board. "Universally trusted."

"They wouldn't have to necessarily _actually_ be a priest or a police officer. It could be a ruse," Morgan suggested, studying the board. "And would they have gone with a priest they didn't know?"

"I probably would have when I was a teenager," Prentiss nodded.

"It's been a while since you were a teenager, Prentiss," Morgan turned to look at her. "All the sex scandals with priests nowadays? It could be just as dangerous going off with a strange priest as it is to go off with the bald man at the mall."

"Same could be said for a police officer," Prentiss argued. "Just because they have a uniform doesn't mean they're safe. How many police officers abuse their power?"

"Yeah, but police officers are symbols of safety."

"Priests are symbols of faith."

"Okay, okay," Hotch held up his hand. "They could have been lured away, yes, but they could have been snatched as well. Annemarie's parents said they were watching a loud movie and when it was over, Cheryl went up to check on Annemarie and she wasn't there. The movie was... a little over two hours long. That's plenty of time for her to be snatched from the door and a bit of noise could be masked by the movie."

"So, it might be someone they trust, it might be a stranger. They might have been snatched, they might have been lured," Rossi sighed. "And we're how much further than the cops were?"

"Hotch, I'm gonna go back to San Giovanni," Morgan stood. "Talk to some more of Carmen's friends. Try and get in her head some more."

"It's ten o'clock, will anybody still be there?" Reid glanced at the watch latched over the cuff of his sweater.

Morgan gave a half smiled. "They won't be leaving until Carmen's home."

ooo ooo ooo

8 February, 2011

San Giovanni's church bell's rang twice and Derek was feeling the exhaustion through him. He'd collected nearly a full Steno pad full of notes about Carmen from her friends, several of which had fallen asleep on mats or couches in the youth room. Leaning forward, he rolled his shoulders and caught his head in his hands.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Derek saw the door to another small classroom close behind a long, blonde braid. He glanced around the room at the kids sleeping and talking, some crying. Gia was asleep in a pile with some of their younger cousins across the room and he smiled before standing and following after the blonde braid.

"Sam," Derek closed the door behind him and saw her standing across the room with her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive stance as she leaned against one of the desks. She looked up and her eyes locked on his. She'd known he'd seen her; she'd been waiting for him to follow her. "Hey."

"You had stitches," she gestured at her own forehead to indicate the healing cut on his.

"Yeah," he nodded, his eyes never leaving her face as he drank her in the way he did every time he saw her. "From the car crash. They're almost dissolved, though."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Sammie Girl," Derek walked across the room until he was just a few feet from her. Sammie nodded and looked at her feet.

"I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry I made you worry. Did you get my flowers?"

"I get them every month," Sammie assured him. "Do you really think Aunt Paola would let something happen to your order? Every month for nine years."

Moving slowly, silently asking permission and giving her plenty of time to refuse him, Derek wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a gentle hug. Sammie was stiff for the briefest moment before she relaxed and leaned against his chest, resting her head there and letting him hold her. Closing his eyes, Derek kissed the top of her head. "Hey, Angel."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm so sleepy, but I have to be at work in 40 minutes. I DON'T WANNA GO. I really just want to sleep now. But I can't. Oh well. I should write a really funny/weird author's note to make up for my lame ones, but I can't think of anything. Because I'm a loser.**

**Umm... I'm watching the last few minutes of The Fisher King Part 1 right now. I've already watched the entire series of both NCIS and NCIS Los Angeles, now I just have to work my way through Criminal Minds before the 26th. I always rewatch the series before the next season. Yup. I'm cool like that. Oops. Elle just got shot. So... Elle went on vacation for two weeks and left her two windows open. That's always bothered me. Did that bother anyone else?**

**This unsub that I created has totally skeezed me out. I need bleach for my brain. I've given myself nightmares. I never want to look up to process of crucifixion ever again. Ugh. I swear, my Google search cool send me to jail for life.**

**Insert rant about possible NHL lockout that I'm too tired to talk about.**

**Insert whining about wanting to go to sleep.**

**Insert talk of how I really need to clean my room.**

**Okay, I'm out. I need caffeine.**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad.**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. I FORGOT. OMG WHAT'S GOING ON NOW W:OEUFHWEBWEFN:EUFIEWFHB GASP HOLY PLOT TWIST BATMAN**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"Yes, I love him. I love him more than anything else in this world and there is nothing that I would like better than to hold on to him forever. But I know it's not for the best. So no matter how much my heart is going to break, I've got to let him go so he can know just how much I love him. Maybe if I'm lucky, he'll come back, but if not, I can make it through this." - Author Unknown_

o o o o

8 February 2011

Sammie stiffened when Derek's lips pressed against the top of her head. She stepped away from him and wrapped her arms around herself protectively, leaning against the wall and shrinking back. "Don't do that."

"Sam," Derek reached a hand out and she moved away from it. She shouldn't have hugged him in the first place, but having him so close when one of her girls was in trouble... it sent her back to when she belonged in his arms, when he was supposed to be there to hold her and protect her and make everything right when everything was wrong. But she didn't belong there anymore and being there was too dangerous.

"You stay over there," Sammie held up her hand when he stepped closer. She hadn't touched him in almost nine years. Less than a month more and it would have been. Derek didn't listen. He grabbed her forearm and pushed the knit sweater up. Gently, he kissed the puckered scar across her wrist. She snatched her arm back as if his touch burned.

"Sammie," Derek trapped her against the wall, his hands on either side of her shoulders. "You can't run away from this forever, Angel. Please, Sam, listen to me. I know you still love me as much as I love you."

"Get off. Get away from me. Don't touch me, Derek."

Derek sighed and lowered his head, but moved away from her. "I love you, Samantha Morgan."

"You're a fool, Derek," Sammie walked past him and closed the door after herself.

Derek hit his palm against the wall and leaned his forehead there as well. Stupid. He'd pushed her. He should have backed off, but having her so close, being alone with her instead of seeing her across the room separated by hordes of family had thrown his common sense out of the window. He was along with his wife and having a proper conversation for the first time in nine years and and he'd given in to his desire to hold her instead of going slowly and moving piece by piece.

"Shit."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Locking herself in the bathroom, Sammie sat down on the cold tile floor with her heart pounding. Tugging the sweater back down over her scar, shrinking into it the soft knit wool and curling her shoulders in, she tucked her head into her knees and cried. She'd felt cold over the years, lonely, but it had eased with time. Now, though, now she felt more lonely and cold than she had in years. Having been so close to him, being able to feel his heart beat through his shirt and feel his arms warm and strong around her...

The emptiness it left was so strong she couldn't even pull herself up off the ground.

But she'd been right. The knew she'd been right to do what she did. Look at him now - he was everything she'd known he could be. Derek was one of forty special agents working for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. He was one of the best in the world. He was exactly where he'd always talked about being.

He would not be where he was right now if she'd kept him tied to her. There was no way he would have gotten anywhere shackled to a wife who couldn't even feed herself, couldn't go to the bathroom by herself, couldn't get out of bed by herself. A wife who still had bad days where she couldn't remember what she was doing from one moment to the next, a wife who couldn't drive herself and needed regular supervision to make sure she didn't walk away from the stove while it was still on. She'd been right to force him out. If she'd let him stay, he'd be a career detective who ran in the same place day after day without getting anywhere. She'd been right.

If only it didn't hurt so much. She knew, she'd always known, that she would love him until the day she died. Which was why she'd let him go.

ooo ooo ooo

"Derek?"

"Nnngh?" Morgan shifted at Prentiss's voice.

"Derek!"

"What? What?" Morgan mumbled and cracked an eye open to see Prentiss looking down at him. Blinking, he pushed himself upward into a sitting position, scrubbing his face with his palm and stretching his back as a blanket fell off of him to the ground.

"Did you sleep here all night last night?" Prentiss looked around the sanctuary as Morgan tried to push the kink out of his spine.

"Yeah, bad idea. Very bad idea," Morgan winced. "I didn't mean to. Just fell asleep."

"Well, someone was watching out for you," Prentiss gestured at the blanket on the floor and the pillow in the pew.

"Mama," he sighed, bending over to pick up the blanket. "Or maybe one of my aunts."

"Why do you still call them your aunts? Your aunts, uncles, cousins, 'mama,' brother... You and your wife have been separated at least nine years - that's how long you've been with the BAU."

"Nine years on March first. But that doesn't matter," Morgan shook his head, stood and folded the blanket into a neat bundle. "They're still my family. We went through hell together, Emily. I love them. I ran away after the divorce. Went undercover in Detroit for a year and a half. I tried to escape my pain by being someone else for a while. With the exception of a few people, like James, they were all waiting for me when I came home.

"When I knocked on the door, after James closed it in my face, Mama threw it open and flung her arms around me. She was crying and clinging to me, thanking God that I'd finally come home. She was as relieved to see me at the doorstep as she would have been to see James. Emily, she doesn't look like much and she didn't give birth to me, but she's as much my mother as my mom is. She's one of the three most important women in my life, I talk to her at least once a week, and I have no idea where I'd be right now without her."

Prentiss smiled quietly and nodded. "I wish I was that close with my mother."

"I'm lucky," he nodded and Prentiss wasn't sure she would have used the word 'lucky' to describe herself if she'd been through whatever it was exactly that Morgan had been through.

"C'mon, team's worried about you. Except for Hotch. Hotch is just pissed."

Twenty minutes later, they were walking into the station off of North La Salle Street, the same station Derek had once worked out of. He shook a few hands and then went into the room where the team had set up shop.

"Nice of you to join us," Hotch said with an edge to his voice.

"Sorry, I fell asleep at the church," Morgan said without elaborating as he grabbed a cup of really terrible coffee from a coffee pot that had been purchased when he worked there. "I got a lot from Carmen's friends last night. I've been thinking. I mean, obviously something must have happened to this unsub. You don't just decide to torture and crucify high school seniors one morning in the shower. And he has to be pretty damn strong - it takes a long to strength to do what he's doing and I doubt a teenage boy is doing it. It's planned, completely methodical.

"Somehow, he manages to dump a girl on church steps sometime before Sunday morning Mass without being seen while everyone's looking for him and then abduct another girl, one who knows a killer is out there to kidnap on that specific day, without anyone seeing. He keeps these girls for two weeks, someplace he can torture and crucify them without anybody hearing while stalking the girls from the next church on his list so he can pick his next victim. This is way too sophisticated for the unsub to be the same age as the victims. He's older. Somewhere between thirty and forty.

"These victims have to represent a specific someone. They're all high school seniors, that doesn't happen by accident. None of them look alike and none of them have the same hobbies, so something probably reminds the unsub of the one he really wants to kill. I think something happened when this unsub was a senior in high school. That's why he's going after seniors in high school."

"What could he be seeing in the victims?" Seaver asked.

"Jonathan Harper killed women he said reminded him of his mother because she was a prostitute who kept Harper in the room while she had sex with her customers and then allowed her customers to have violent sexual relations with her son after they finished for an extra fifteen dollars from the time he was five until he ran away when he was sixteen years old," Reid added, looking to Rossi, who had interviewed Harper twenty years ago, "but his mother was a fair skinned brunette and his victims were all over the map. One woman was Asian, one was Hispanic, there were a seven blondes and a redhead, two African Americans."

"When Harper was talking about Sara Collins, he said 'she flipped her hair the way my mother did,' Rossi nodded. "Willow Paz wore the same style shoes. Jennifer Krottner was reading his mother's favourite book. No one else saw it, but, in Harper's mind, these woman were directly connected to his mother, they represented her to him."

"My cousin said something that got me. 'What could make someone pervert Jesus' sacrifice to us?' I don't care who you are, this has to be religious - you don't pick crucifixion because it sounds fun," Morgan shook his head. "It's too difficult. It takes forever for someone to die that way."

"The longest recorded death via crucifixion took eight days," Reid interjected.

"These girls are already weak," Morgan continued as if Reid had never spoken. "He starves them, beats them, rapes them - they have no strength left when he nails them up onto the cross. He knows it not going to take eight days for them to die. The coroner said the state of the infection in surrounding the holes in the victims hands and feet indicate that the nails had been in the victims for three days. Three days isn't eight, but it's still a long-ass time to hold onto a dying teenager. He knows exactly how weak these girls have to be for it to take three days for them to die. These girls aren't his first."

"There are more victims," Hotch said, looking at the boards with the girls pictures. "We'd have heard if there were other crucifixions. The other bodies can't have been found. They were test runs."

"I don't think the first victims weren't test runs," Morgan shook his head. "The rage he has against these girls. No way. This rage has been here all along. The first victims were just as important to the unsub as the ones we know about. Something happened recently. Something that triggered an episode. He wants people to know about him. He's putting on a show for someone, the woman who ruined his life in high school, and he's convinced she knows it's for her. You don't methodically pick churches and girls and plan all this out for no reason. The Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End. It began at St. Clements Roman Catholic Church ten or twenty years ago and it's going to end there."

ooo ooo ooo

"Historically speaking, crucifixion was the death penalty reserved for the worst criminals of the land," Reid explained to the police officers grouped in front of them. "Agent Morgan's right, the unsub did not decide to crucify his victims for no reason. We don't know the exact reason why he choose crucifixion as his way to murder his victims, but we do know that it's incredibly significant. He sees the woman these girls represent as the destroyer of his world. She took everything from him."

"We know whatever happened happened while the unsub was in his senior year of high school and that he's between the ages of thirty and forty," Rossi continued. "We have our technical analyst going over the senior classes from 1987 to 2007. We added five years on either side for safety."

"Something happened to the unsub in that time period and it happened in a church. It happened at St. Clements," Prentiss spread her hands as she spoke. "He picked this church for a reason and he will end with it."

"There was a rape in 1996. The girl was a senior in high school and she went to St Clements," a police officer in the front row pipped up, looking up from the notebook where he was writing the information down.

"We'll look into that," Morgan told him, "but this trauma happened to the unsub, so it probably doesn't have any connection."

"This unsub is a strong man. He probably has a job in construction or some other form of hard labour. We think it's construction. It's construction's off-season. Gives him plenty of time to spend with his victims and to pick his next ones. He will look completely normal. He won't stand out. You won't be able to pick him out of a crowd. That's all we have for now. Thank you."

ooo ooo ooo

"_Tatina_," Andria stroked Sammie's hair and kissed her forehead. "It was good of you to give Derek the blanket and pillow."

"He was cold and the pews are hard. He shouldn't have been sleeping there."

"Sometimes our hearts lead us funny places," Andria brushed trash off one of the tables and into the trash can she carried around. "His led him to the sanctuary last night. Yours led you to give him a blanket and a pillow."

"He was cold and the pews are hard," Sammie repeated the words as she followed after Andria with a sponge.

"It's interesting how your hearts keep leading you two to each other," Andria commented innocently.

"Mom, don't," Sammie warned her.

"I'm just saying," Andria picked up a plastic cup and dumped the contents into the sink before tossing it into the trash. "I don't think God is done with your story."

"Mom, stop," Sammie slammed the sponge down on the table. "Stop it! Derek and I are divorced. That's it. It's final. There's no going back, no 'what if's.' Ellie is dead, Keira is dead, and Derek and I aren't anything."

"That isn't true," Andria shook her head. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He loves you. And I know you love him."

"Stop it! I don't want to have this conversation."

"Samantha, you can't run from this away forever."

"I'm not running! I am not running, Mom. I am _not_ running."

Andria watched Sammie leave, the sponge still sitting on the table. "Oh, _Tatina_, just because you refuse to admit it doesn't mean you aren't."

ooo ooo ooo

"How does he do it, Hotch?" Morgan looked around the front steps of San Giovanni. "He dumped Sandra's body right here, man, and no one saw. There are streetlights all down this street and these steps aren't exactly concealed. How does he get the bodies from his vehicle to the steps without a single person seeing? I've been up and down these steps hundreds of times, Hotch. You just can't do it. There's no possible way."

"Pretend for a minute this isn't your church, Morgan," Hotch ducked under the crime scene tape and walked away from the steps. "You have to be objective."

"Hotch, c'mon, I've been over these steps -"

"Okay, you're right. You know these steps. If you were going to get a body up here, how would you do it?" Hotch looked around. "From here, I have a clear view of the steps, all of them, all the way from the sidewalk to the doors. No blind spots from this angle."

"It's the same view from the other side," Morgan crossed his arms up over his chest. "Hotch, it's just not possible."

"It is possible, Morgan. The unsub did it. We can do. He wouldn't stick out. Even when a killer's on the loose, he's non-threatening."

"I dunno, Hotch, I mean..."

"Derek, I know this is your home and your family, but if you can't be objective, you need to take yourself off this case," Hotch set his lips in a straight line, his face stern.

"You can't take me off this case, Hotch," Morgan straightened his back. "You can't take me off a case in front of them."

"Then show me you can do your job objectively. And this case isn't about impressing your family, Morgan. It's about the victims and catching the unsub before he kills the fifth girl. Is that why you pushed for this case?"

"Of course not! That son-of-a-bitch is torturing a girl from _my_ church, Hotch. _My home!_ Enough has happened to this church, Hotch! Keira, Tom, Andria, James, Sam, Ellie, me... I cannot let Carmen be added to last list. I can't let that bastard defile my home any more than he already has. He left the body of an eighteen-year-old girl on the front steps of my church, Hotch. And everything he did to Sandra, he's doing to my baby cousin's friend right now. And if you think I was just going to sit back in Virginia and wait for him to dump her body on some other church steps, you are out of your goddamned mind."

"Then don't let him kill Carmen. Figure it out. How did he get the body from the street to the door?"

Morgan was silent. He walked all around the steps, looking to the door from every angle imaginable. He'd been right - there were absolutely no blind spots. Sighing, he sat down on the lowest step and put his head in his hands, racking his brain for some answer. He and Sammie had stopped on this spot after their wedding. It'd been a perfect wedding. Sammie had been so beautiful and the pews were filled with their family and...

And the pews. The hard, old, wooden, pews.

"Hotch," Morgan lifted his head. "The pews in this church are really old. All the formal furniture is. It was all handmade in Italy and brought over here when the church was built. Almost a hundred years old. When Sam and I were dating, a bunch of pews needed to be fixed. A carpenter came and took the pews in his truck, brought them back a week later. The night before Sunday Mass. I mean, he took them around back to the parking lot entrance, but a truck like that could've parked up here instead."

"Who would think anything of a carpenter parked in front of a church hauling pews up the steps?" Hotch finished as Morgan fished out his cell phone.

"It was something cutsie and religious on the truck. You know, like, ah, I can't think of an example," Morgan scrolled through his contacts.

"A Breadcrumb and Fish Sandwich Shop," Hotch cracked a grin and Morgan held the phone up to his head. "Who thinks anything of loud noises coming from a carpenter's workshop? Need to build a cross, no problem, I know exactly how to do that. Easy access to a church? Sure, I'm a carpenter delivering pews before Mass. My truck even has a religious theme. I completely belong here."

"He's not answering his phone. He's either taking Confession, with Carmen's family or praying himself. Father always answers his phone," Morgan put the phone in his pocket. "I'm gonna go see if I can find one of the Deacons."

"I'll call the rest of the team," Hotch nodded as Morgan closed the heavy wooden door behind him. "Hey. Prentiss, Morgan's stumbled onto a theory about what the unsub does and how he dumps his victims."

_"Well, hold on. We've got a theory of our own about how he picks his victims and who he is. Come in and bring Morgan. Reid's still talking to García. I'll explain when you get here."_

* * *

**A/N:**

**A teenage boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom. First he goes to rent a tux, but there's a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever. Next, he has to get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and there's a huge flower line there. He waits forever but eventually gets the flowers. Then he heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there's a large limo line at the rental office, but he's patient and gets the job done. Finally, the day of the prom comes. The two are dancing happily and his girlfriend is having a great time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads over to the punch table and there's no punchline.**

**AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Okay, I'm sorry. That's totally not my joke, but I thought it was hilarious.**

**YESTERDAY, I got the most amazing books ever. They're picture books called "Hockey Numbers" and "Z is for Zamboni." I legitimately freaked out. I was so excited. I love them. They're freaking adorable. WHERE WERE THESE WHEN I WAS GROWING UP?! NOT FAIR. They're for teaching numbers and the ABC's. One's like "Stanley Cup rings - there are 4. I bet they want to win some more." And the other's like "And G can stand for Gretzky, perhaps the 'greatest' one of all." KILL ME I CAN'T HANDLE THIS.**

**Omg, I miss hockey so much. Wah.**

**Okay, I have to go do a little homework and then go to sleep because I'm tired.**

**Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think!**

**Love, Thalia**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now." – Author Unknown_

o o o o

8 February 2012

"Where'd these pictures come from?" Hotch asked as he and Morgan walked with Rossi and Seaver, who'd been where they believed Carmen had been abducted, into the room they'd been giving in the police department. Five new pictures were pinned to the cork board.

"Facebook," Prentiss explained. "And then confirmed by the parents. We showed the pictures to the girl's parents and they all confirmed that the picture is of their daughter with her absolute best friend. Notice the pattern?"

"They're all best friends with a boy, not a girl," Morgan looked at each of the photographs in turn. He was about to say something else, but Reid cut him off.

"Remember that rape back in '96? The one the police officer told us about?"

"Yeah, but that happened to the girl, not the boy," Rossi shook his head.

"Carla Johnson was raped in April 1996," Reid pinned up another picture. "That's her with her best friend, Jon Bove. From their 1995 yearbook."

"But if Bove was the unsub, wouldn't he be going after men, not woman? Going after her attacker, not her?" Seaver asked.

"Normally that make sense." In his excitement, Reid spoke practically too fast to be understood and kept stumbling briefly over words that flew out of his mouth before his lips moved to form the sounds. "But Bove was the one who raped her. Supposedly raped her, I should say. He was never convicted. Johnson had a rape kit done and there was nothing to indicate that she'd been raped at all. No semen, no bruising, no tearing, nothing. Johnson pressed charges, but Bove wasn't convicted. No evidence, plus he had an alibi. He was at the movies with his grandfather at the time Johnson claimed he raped her. The cashier at the snack stand identified him and he's on camera several times through the film helping his grandfather to the bathroom."

"She pretended to be raped and set up her best friend?"

"Apparently. We just don't know why."

"Where's Jon Bove now?"

"The address on his drivers license is an apartment. He doesn't live there. Apartment manager says he's been gone for a year. A new family lives there. García's tracking him down now. And black and whites are bringing in Johnson right now," Prentiss told them. "Hotch, you said you and Morgan had a theory?"

"We think he's a carpenter," Hotch said, explaining what he and Morgan had discussed back at San Giovanni. "It fits, it makes sense."

"It makes more sense than you know, Very Special Agent Hotchner," García's voice popped up and Reid moved the computer so that everyone could see the video chat. "Jon Bove, born January 17th, 1978, now 33 years old. Born and raised in Chicago. Up until the rape charge, Bove was a perfect kid. Church, Best Buddies, Big Brother/Big Sister tutoring, volunteering... Then the rape charge and everything changed. He had been accepted to Loyola University Chicago's Saint Joseph College Seminary. The kid was studying to become a priest. After the rape charge, the college retracted his admission to the Seminary and he ended up in their theology department. He never became a priest, but not for lack of trying. Bove applied to seventeen different seminaries and every one rejected him because of the rape charge."

"But he was acquitted," Seaver protested.

"That hardly matters to the Catholic Church," Rossi shook his head. "He was accused of a rape and that was it."

"She destroyed his life," Prentiss shook her head. "She took away the only thing he ever wanted. His whole life he was preparing to become a priest and she took it away forever with a lie. He didn't even do anything wrong and she destroyed his life."

"Where is Bove now, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"His grandfather, Stefano Bove, owned a carpenter's shop, 'In His Footsteps, Carpenters for Christ.' Jon Bove owns it now. They mostly service the churches of Chicago, specializing in fixing hand-crafted Italian woodwork. They also do made-to-order."

"I know him - not Jon, Stefano. You have a picture of Stefano, García?"

"Do you even have to ask?" A drivers license photograph popped up over her face.

"Yes. That's him. Stefano worked on the pews for San Giovanni. Father Berlusconi gave me his number when Sam and I got married. He built my wedding gift for Sammie, a special bookcase for all her music stuff. Lemme talk to Stefano. I think I can get him to open up."

"Take Prentiss with -"

"Naw, Hotch," Morgan shook his head. "I'm gonna go alone. I don't want him to think I'm there professionally. I want him to think I'm there to get him to build another gift for Sammie. I don't think he'd talk to a cop. He'd talk to me, though. James just got back to Chicago a few hours ago. I'm gonna drag him with me."

"Alright," Hotch nodded. "Make sure James knows exactly what to do."

"James'll be alright. I'll take care of it," Morgan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and hit one of the speed dial buttons. "Hey, man. You are the church? Yeah. Okay. Can you come pick me up at the police department - yeah, the one I worked at. Naw, I want you to go somewhere with me. _Don't_ tell Mama. Just come get me. Okay. See you."

A little less than an hour later, Derek and James walked up to a neatly kept house in Elmwood Park. Morgan knocked on the door and the two waited until an elderly man opened the door.

"Signore Bove?" Derek asked and the man nodded. "You probably don't remember me. I'm Derek Morgan; this is my brother-in-law, James. Ten years ago, you made a bookcase for my wife, Samantha."

"I'm... I'm sorry, Sig. Morgan, I don't remember you. But I hope she liked the bookcase."

"She loved it. She uses it every day. It's her favourite gift I've ever given her. Haven't been able to top it yet," Derek gave a charismatic smile.

"I'm glad," Stefano smiled at him and welcomed them inside his modest home.

"I actually came because I wanted to have a gift made for her in honour of our tenth anniversary. A hope chest or something like that," Derek sat on the couch Stefano indicated and James sat in a chair opposite. "I know you're still in business, so I figured I'd come back."

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm not working anymore. My hands are too shaky, you see," Stefano held up his hands. "What if I ruined one of those beautiful pews? I'd never forgive myself. My grandson, Jon, has taken over the business. You should talk to him. I taught him everything I know. He does excellent work."

"Great," Derek grinned. "Do you have his number?"

"Of course. You should just go to the shop. There you can see some of his work. He keeps a beautiful grandfather clock in the office."

"What else does he have in the shop?" James leaned forward as he asked, his tone casual as he glanced to Derek for approval. Derek gave a near invisible nod of encouragement. James saw because he was looking for it, but Stefano was already jabbering away about his grandson.

"Jon's fixing the alter from St Hedwig's Parish right now and revarnishing their communion table. He's got a special-order armoire almost finished. And there's some of his older stuff in the basement with the raw wood."

"The shop has a basement?" Derek asked innocuously.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Carla Johnson sat, alone, in the interrogation room, picking at the end of a perfect acrylic nail. On the other side of the mirror, the studied her.

"You go in," Prentiss said to Rossi. "She's not responding to me. I can't build a rapport with her. She's shut down."

Rossi nodded and shared a look with Hotch before heading towards the door. Closing the door behind him, he sat down across the table from Carla and got straight to the point. "Ms. Johnson, my name is SSA David Rossi. I just want to talk to you about the rape charges from 1996. The one against Jon Bove?"

Rossi spread out the case file in front of her, turned the pages so they were all facing her. Then he put the photocopied photograph of her and Jon on top.

"What I'd really like to know is why you claimed Jon Bove raped you... when he didn't?"

"He _did_ rape me," Carla said, pushing the photograph away.

"I... I don't think he did. There was no evidence, Carla. Your rape kit came back with nothing. And Jon Bove had a videotaped alibi," Rossi leaned back in his chair. "Jon was at the movie theatre all night." Carla was silent and Rossi pressed on. "You two were best friends for years. Did everything together. And then you charge him with rape?

For twenty minutes, Rossi pressed as Carla got more and more agitated.

"You destroyed his life, Carla. A single lie and you turned it upside down and sideways. Why would you do something like that? He was your best friend. He could never go back to that church. His parents had to change churches. They moved because of the allegations. You took -"

"I loved him!" Carla slammed her hands down on the table, her eyes red and angry. "I loved him!"

"Then why, Carla?" After moments of silence, Rossi pressed on. "He rejected you."

"He loved me too!" Carla insisted. "He told me so! But I wasn't enough for him. He wouldn't even go to prom with me."

"He wanted to become a priest, Carla."

"He was in love with me."

"He wanted to dedicate his life to God and you falsely accused him of rape. His acceptance to seminary was revoked because of that accusation and every other application to seminary was rejected. Instead of becoming a priest, he got as close to Jesus as he could - he followed in his footsteps, became a carpenter, took over his grandfather's shop to fix churches furniture. You destroyed his life."

"That was not my fault," her voice was shaky. "That was _not_ my fault."

"You know he's killing girls now, don't you? Meghan, from your church, he did that. He did that because of you. Meghan was a surrogate, Carla. For you."

There was a knock on the door and Reid entered.

"García found these. Seven. They're all missing," he put the photographs on the table one by one, facing Carla. "Gillian Harris, Kate Knight, Peyton Mowerly, Vanessa Shawn, Maggy Orr, Lauren Beedle, and Sarah Lawrence. They've all gone missing over the past year and they all... look remarkably like you, Carla. When their bodies are found, we'll probably find evidence of severe torture, tentative with Gillian - she went missing first. The torture will progressively get worse until Sarah. She went missing just a month before Meghan."

"You know what he did to Meghan?" Rossi asked. "Rape, electrocution, he beat her, starved her. And then he crucified her. He's making these girls pay for what you did."

"I was seventeen!" Carla buried her face in her hands. "I was stupid and jealous. I was angry. The minute I said it, I wanted to take it back."

"Why didn't you?"

"What would everybody think?"

"It was better they think Jon a rapist than think you a liar?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I think I can do that," Jon nodded. "Ah, I think I found it. Some of Nonno's older stuff is harder to find in here. Is this the bookcase?"

Jon handed Derek a photograph and he nodded. "That's it."

"Yeah, I can make a hope chest to match. You wanted it by September?"

"September 15th. Can I see some of your other work?" Derek passed the photograph back.

"Sure thing. Come on back. I think I have a hope chest around here somewhere."

Derek and James followed Jon through the workshop and saw examples of his work, exclaiming over some and pretending to be interested. He insisted there was nothing to see in the basement.

"Hotch," Morgan spoke into his phone as they got into James' car twenty minutes later. "We need a search warrant. Carmen's in the basement of that shop, I can feel it. There was some blood on the ground by the back door, like someone tried to wipe it up and smeared a little."

Four hours later, the sun was setting and a SWAT team was behind Prentiss and Hotch as Morgan silently picked the lock. They didn't want Bove to know they were coming before they got to the basement. They didn't want him to kill Carmen. The lock clicked and Morgan pushed it open. They made their way silently through the shop, the only sounds were occasional squeaks of rubber soles against industrial cement flooring.

They stood outside the metal door to the basement and Morgan pressed the side of his head to the door, listening heard to hear through the metal. Sobbing and rhythmic screams were faint, but there and Morgan gave a thumbs up to the rest of the group before moving out of the way of the SWAT agent with the battering ram. It took three swings before the door burst open, one of the hinges loose.

The narrow basement smelled of bleach and blood and rotting flesh and vomit. Thirteen crosses were erected around the wall; six of each side and one at the head of the room with a wall all to itself. Eleven of the crosses showed evidence of use and the last one in the rows of six waited for Carmen, the cross in the place of prominence also waiting to be used.

SWAT and the team swarmed down the stairs to the bottom and Bove had a knife to Carmen's neck. She was naked and struggling to stand with blood trickling down her from her back, a bloody whip at Bove's feet.

"Bove, let her go."

"Put the knife down," Hotch hollered.

Hazel eyes were wide with fear. Hotch kept trying to talk him down, get him to let go of Carmen, until Bove saw Morgan. The second his eyes met Morgan's they narrowed and he pulled back on Carmen's hair and pressed the knife against her skin. Blood had barely been drawn before Morgan's round went through the centre of Bove's forehead. Carmen screamed and scrambled to get away from the body, crying for her daddy, and Morgan holstered his gun and ran towards her. He picked her up and carried her away as Hotch needlessly checked Bove's neck for a pulse. Prentiss was waiting at the other end of the basement with a sheet she'd pull from over a pile of raw wood and wrapped Carmen in it the second Morgan got there.

"Derek?" Tears ran down her face and Morgan carried her up the stairs to where the ambulance was shrieking up onto the scene She did not need to be in this basement anymore.

"_Va tutto bene_, Sweetie, you're okay now. It's over."

"_Voglio andare a casa,_ Derek. I wanna go home." she sobbed into his Kevlar vest. "_Voglio il mio papà._ I want my Daddy."

"Thirteen crosses, Hotch," Prentiss looked around the room as she stood in the centre next to Hotch. "Twelve for the Apostles and one for the Messiah. Carmen was the last Apostle. He was going after Carla next."

"She played God on earth with his life. He made her into Jesus."

"But was he psychotic or just so full of rage he had to kill?"

"Does it matter?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Derek pulled the heavy oak door open and was instantly hit by the overwhelming smell of garlic as he stepped inside and let the happy chattering of his family wash over him in a comforting wave. Warm greetings were thrown at him when he came into view of the tables that had been pushed together into clumps around the centre room.

"_Buonasera, Nonna. Buonasera, Mama_," Derek bent down and kissed their cheeks as he said good evening.

"How long are you staying, baby?" Andria asked, taking his hand.

"Until Sunday. I need some time at home."

"Good. We miss you around here," Marsala said. "Now, go work."

"Yes, ma'am," Derek smiled and looked around the room. At some tables, dough was being pressed into flat sheets through an Atlas 150 pasta roller; those same machines were used at other tables to make long pasta, and, at others, the sheets morphed into different forms of short pasta. The smell of sauces seeped from the kitchen. He had once asked why they didn't just buy a few commercial pasta making machines and Marsala had looked at him like he was crazy. Then he'd spent an evening making pasta with them and understood. Not everyone came every night, but every night the restaurant was full of family laughing and talking and busying themselves making the next day's pasta the same way it had always been made. Their hands were quick and they barely looked at what they were doing as they talking, creating near perfect handmade pasta and ravioli and tortellini with minimal effort born from years of practice.

Around the room, his younger cousins and his cousins' children were being taught by the older family members. Busy hands made quick work of twirling long pasta into nests and placing them on parchment paper off to the side. Excess dough was through into a bowl in the centre of the tables to be rolled out again into a new sheet. James sat next to his uncle Enzo, making spinach torttellini and eating more than he placed on the parchment paper. A few tables to the right of where he stood between Andria and Marsala, Sammie sat between her cousins, Claudio and Giuliana, forming ravioli.

Claudio met Derek's eyes and started to stand and head to a table forming farfalle. Derek mouthed a thank you and received a wink in return. Claudio was hardly the only person in this room fighting for Derek to once again be a permanent fixture at Sammie's side. Derek made the rounds, kissing his aunts and uncles, joking with his cousins, before eventually finding his way to the seat Claudio had vacated.

Sammie didn't look up when Derek sat next to her. She reached to the centre of the table and gathered some mushroom and cheese filling with her fingertips, feeling the weight for a moment before scooping up just a little more. Placing the filling on the dough about an inch away from the closest fillings, she repeated the action again and again until the dough was dotted with mushroom filling. Then she dipped the basting brush into the bowl of whipped egg whites and coated the empty spaces of pasta dough. Draping a fresh sheet over the filling, she pressed all the air from around the filling until it was firmly squeezed together and no air was left. Then she used a ravioli cutter to separate the individual raviolis and dropped them on the parchment paper, all the while, discussing Juventus' 1-3 win over Cagliari the Saturday previous.

Derek took his own sheet of dough and began creating the pastas, joining the conversation and commenting that Gigi had not looked happy about letting in the Acquafresca goal.

"When does Gigi ever look happy about letting in a goal?" Sammie joked and Derek accidentally-on-purpose bumped her hand with his reaching for the filling. They all laughed at Giuliana's imitation of Buffon's patented scowl.

"Matri's second goal was a great though, right off the toe," Derek knocked a little filling from the ball on his fingertips with his thumb and felt the weight again.

"Not as good as Luca Toni's header," Giuliana disagreed. "_That_ was impressive. Don't foul Toni, he'll come back and score six minute later!"

"It was a great first goal," Derek nodded.

"Thank God for the foul on Toni, or their header would have counted," Sammie moved another batch of ravioli to the parchment paper. "And Cagliari trying to pretend it wasn't a foul? I mean, honestly. Anybody with eyes could see. The refs saw it didn't they? And we all know how blind they are."

For three hours, Derek enjoyed the normalcy of the evening. Laughing and talking with family, making ravioli and discussing soccer, hearing about Rachele's new boyfriend and finding out Teo's wife was pregnant again. Sitting next to Sammie, it felt like he had gone back ten years, like he had just gotten off of work and came back to Ponsiglione's to spend time with them. It wasn't until everything was done and the sauces stored in the fridge and the carts of pasta had been rolled into the freezer and people were donning their coats that Derek fully remembered he was heading back to his mom's house instead of taking Sammie back home to theirs.

"Walk with me?" he touched Sammie's arm and gestured towards outside where they'd walked many times before. Sammie looked unsure for a moment and then nodded.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm so tired. I had my first theology exam this morning. I think I did pretty good. I have the orthodontist in an hour. I'm so excited. Not. Then I go to work. Tomorrow I have a school observation and then work. I'm so excited I just can't handle it. Can you tell?**

**Oh. And hockey's locked out and I want to fling myself off a cliff.**

**In other news, I'm halfway through season 5 on CM. Just 2.5 seasons to watch before next Thursday. Yes, next Thursday. I can't watch the premiere on Wednesday because I'll be in the theatre watching the Broadway cast of _Beauty and the Beast_ preforming _Beauty and the Beast_ and I'm so excited. I just can't express it right now because I'm exhausted. ;-;**

**Okay. I have to go. I'll talk to you later.**

**I hope you liked this chapter and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thal**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angles, but I have seen thee and thou art enough." - George Edward Moore_

o o o o

8 February, 2011

Derek held her coat open and helped her into it. She buttoned the royal blue wool closed and tugged on her gloves, waiting as he zipped up his leather jacket and held an arm out for her. Sammie hesitated again before taking his arm, holding on to the crook of his elbow.

Derek lead her through the doors and they turned down the snow-covered street as their family pretended not to watch. There had been a blizzard of epic proportions just a week ago, dumping almost two full feet of snow across Chicago.

Neither of them spoke for a few blocks. Derek had a strong hold on her to help her own the snow-covered ice and to make sure she didn't slip. Each of them were lost in their thoughts of yesterday and the walks this sidewalk had seen, the kisses, the laughing and teasing... the love.

"I didn't know you still watched Juve games," Sammie scaid several blocks later, her words slow and precise to ensure she said what she meant. Sammie was closer to his side now than she had been when they started out.

"It's not an addiction you can shed easily, Angel. You got me hooked. Besides, Gigi's one attractive man."

"Am I going to lose you to Gigi?" Sammie teased and then, realizing what she'd said, clamped her mouth closed. It was 2011, not 2001 and she needed to remember that.

"Baby, Gigi's married with kids."

"You might still has a chance. He's not married yet," Sammie's voice was quiet.

"I have the international channels at home," Derek said, giving her an out. "And I DVR all the Juve games."

Sammie shivered and Derek put his arm around her, taking her now-empty hand in his other. They were down by the fountain when Derek stopped and Sammie stared at the silent cement art. The fountain had been silent for months and wouldn't return to life again until the city was sure that winter was over.

"It's always so pretty when it snows," Derek said, remembering their first kiss, which had been shared on this sidewalk on an evening much like this. Sammie nodded her agreement. She remembered the same thing he remembered. The kiss had been magical, as had every kiss since then. "Let's sit?"

"We'll get wet," Sammie pointed out. "All the benched are covered in half-melted snow."

"So?" Derek smiled down at her and her heart melted. She hated how he could do this to her so easily no matter how many walls she tried to keep standing. He didn't lead her to the bench that still felt like theirs. Still holding her hand with an arm around her shoulders, they kept walking with no destination.

"This is the first conversation we've had in nine years."

"No," Derek shook his head with a grin. "That was back in Ponsiglione's. We talked about the game."

"It's the same conversation," she rolled her eyes at him.

"No, no, Giuliana was part of that conversation. This is a different conversation."

"It's the same conversation."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, if the people having the conversation change, it's a different conversation."

"So, if I'm talking to Viviana and then James come up and joins and then leaves and I'm still talking to Viviana, Viviana and I have now had three separate conversations?"

"Yes."

"No! It's been one conversation. There's a reason they call it 'joining the conversation' - a new conversation doesn't start, someone else joins the first conversation. If I'm on Skype, it doesn't say 'Viviana and Sammie started a new conversation with James.' It just says 'James joined the conversation!'"

Derek was just grinning. He didn't say anything or counter, he just smiled and squeezed her hand. They walked aimlessly, continuing to talk about family and sports, griping on the six game losing streak the Blackhawks were entertaining.

"How are you doing, Sam?" Derek asked her, his tone gentle but serious as he finally breached the subject they'd been dancing around since they left the restaurant.

"Alright," she said after some consideration. "Some days are better than others. Today was a good day. So was yesterday."

"When was your last bad day?"

"Last Monday. I was having difficulty remembering what I was doing and I lost my temper at Paolo."

"Mama said you've been playing the piano more," Derek led her down the street back towards Ponsiglione's. She nodded noncommittally. "Imagine my surprise when I went to the DCI Championship in the theatre last August and your name showed up as the drill designer for Santa Clara's show. I went onto SCV's sight and there you were. 'Samantha Morgan - Visual Designer/Drill Writer.' I didn't know you were designing drill. Why didn't you tell me?"

"They only got fifth place."

"Fifth place is pretty damn good for your first drill," Derek reminded her.

"It's not my first."

"What?"

"I've done high school drills the past several years."

"Since when?" Derek stopped and turned to look at her.

"Fall of oh-five. My old high school, Riverside Brookfield, let me try that year. Mr. Helding helped me, taught me the software. I did their drill myself the next year. In 2007, I did their drill and music, plus the drill of two other high schools."

"How many shows have you done total?"

"Twenty-nine for high school, ten of those I arranged the music too, and one of Drum Corps," Sammie shrugged like the whole thing was no big deal. "Plus a bunch that I just did for fun."

"No one told me," he pursed his lips in annoyance. "James just said you did this show."

"That might be because I asked them not to. And what corps would hire a drill designer with no portfolio?"

"Why would you do that? Why would you tell them not to tell me?"

"It's silly."

"It's not silly, Sam. It's amazing."

"What were you doing at Big, Loud and Live anyway?"

"I didn't have anything going on and I saw the ad for it. The ad made me miss you, so I went and watched it," Derek tugged on her pink toque a little, bringing it down over her ears. "I'm so - I'm so proud of you, Baby Girl. I wish I could have been here to see some of them."

"And what about you? Mom said you ran the team for a while."

"Yeah. About six months."

"They're amazing."

"You never met them."

"Well, the Paris Opera House has Erik and San Giovanni has Samantha Morgan," Sammie gave a small grin and Derek started laughing.

"I knew I saw your braid going around a corner. Sam... Can I take you someplace?"

"I... I dunno..." Sammie looked away, stepping back and putting a little bit of distance between them. "I should get home."

"Please, Sam. I really want to show you something. I'll bring you back home as soon as you want if you just, please, let me show you something." Derek was begging. He didn't even care that he was begging, right then, right that second, he needed her to come with him. He watched her debate with herself, leaning one way and then the other before her shoulders sagged in defeat and she nodded.

"Alright."

Half an hour later, Derek was stopping his rental car in front of a little one-story house that made Sammie's heart ache.

"Take me home," she looked at Derek, her hazelnut eyes blurry through the tears.

"Sam -"

"No. Take me home. Why would you bring me here?"

"Because I want to show you -"

"How happy some other family is in our home? I knew I shouldn't have come. Take me back home. Take me to Riverside."

"No one lives here." Derek shook his head.

"What?"

"We still own the house. Well, technically, I own it."

"You didn't..." Sammie looked back to the house, lit by the street lamp they were parked beneath. The lawn was neatly cut and the wood siding painted. The baby oak in the front yard wasn't a baby anymore, the bare branched reaching up, taller than the roof of the house. "It looks like someone still lives here."

"The neighbour, Brent, remember? He was six and he liked Tonka Trucks?"

"I ran over his dump trunk," Sammie ran the back of her hand under her nose.

"He's fifteen now. He mows the lawn every two weeks," Derek unbuckled his seatbelt and, tugging his gloves on, got out of the car and ran around to the passenger side. He opened her door and held out his hand to her. Hesitantly, she took his hand and let him help her out of the car. Hand-in-hand, they made their way up the walk to the front porch and Derek slipped the key into the lock.

Sammie tightened her grip on Derek's hand as the door opened. The colours on the walls were the same, albeit faded from time and sun, and the furniture was similar, but different. The blue sofa set against the soft yellow walls of the living room was the same shade as the one she had picked out and the lamps on the end tables were close to the ones that had been there before. The photographs on the walls were the same, but framed in frames she didn't recognize.

"You kept our house."

"I couldn't sell it," Derek admitted. "I tried to. I got a good offer, but I couldn't make myself sign the contract."

"Did... What did you do with Ellie's room?" The words were quiet, like she was afraid to ask the question, afraid of what the answer would be.

"It's empty. All of her stuff is at my house in Virginia. So is all your music stuff."

Sammie let go of his hand and went around the house, looking at everything, with Derek trailing behind her. She walked through the kitchen, trailing her hand over the counters and the cabinets. She stopped and stared at the wedding photo hanging on the wall, her lips pressing together as she kept control of her emotions. Out of the kitchen to the music room, empty besides the upright piano placed against the wall, filling the place where hers had once stood.

"Has the piano been taken care of?"

"Yes. It was tuned last month. You can play it if you want."

"Who tuned it?"

"Chris."

"Where's my piano?" Sammie lifted the lid over the keys and traced the ivory.

"In Virginia. Being very carefully cared for." Derek watched her with the piano, saw how much she wanted to sit and play. "Sammie, Baby, play something for me?"

She pulled the bench out and sat down, stretching her fingers out over the keys. The first few notes were tentative, an attempt to feel-out the unfamiliar piano and how it played. After a minute or so, a familiar melody filled the room and Derek's heart contracted. He well remembered Gustav Holst's In Youth is Pleasure. It was Sammie's favourite song and the song that played while she walked towards him down the isle of a church.

She whisper-sang the words as the melody emanated from the piano and Derek took a deep breath. He didn't sing well, but he sang with her anyways, partially out of habit and partially because he wanted so desperately to hold onto this moment forever.

"Methought I walked still to and fro and from her company I could not go but when I waked it was not so. In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure." The third, final verse was hard to sing. All Derek wanted to do was pull her up into his arms and kiss her and not acting on that impulse took all the willpower he had. She sat there at the piano bench, staring at the keys and lost in her own thoughts.

Derek took the two steps to stand behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders and watching her hands as she started playing something else, something he didn't recognize. She played a few more pieces before stopping. She leaned back against his chest.

"I miss you, Sam," Derek stroked her hair, gently tucking some behind her ear as she leaned her head back to look at him.

"I miss you too, Derek."

He didn't think much between those words and when he bent down to kiss her. She didn't object. Whatever was in the room, whatever magic the house hold, worked on her, brought her back in time. She returned his kiss, reaching her hands up to touch his face. After a few moments, she stood and turned, kneeling her knee on the wood bench and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed it that position for what felt like years.

She moved first. Her hands lowered from his face down to his chest and she started unbuttoning his shirt. Derek wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, feeling her fingertips brush against his skin as the last button of his purple shirt slipped from it's button-hole.

"Sam, are you sure about this?" Derek pulled the rubber band from the end of her braid and ran his fingers through her hair to let it free until he fell loose and wavy down her back.

"No," she shook her head, but kissed him again, her hands smoothing up his chest to push the shirt from his shoulders. Derek had a lot of patience and a lot of willpower, but it stopped short of resistance when the woman he loved was taking off his shirt. With a groan, he released her to get the shirt off his arms and then, dropping the shirt to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her again and picked her up, carrying her out of the room and across the hall to their bedroom.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Derek didn't want to fall asleep, because, right now, reality was better than it had been in almost ten years, far better than anything his subconscious could create. Reaching out a hand, he brushed long, blond hair away from Sammie's neck. She moved slightly and Derek pulled his hand back, but she settled almost instantly. He reached out again and moved the hair until he could see the tiny sixteenth-note tattoo behind her ear.

Shifting over the bed to get closer to her, Derek wrapped Sammie back up in his arms, pulling her tightly against him so her bare back pressed flush against his chest and his face buried in her neck. He kissed the small patch of inked flesh before closing his eyes and tried to commit the feeling of her asleep in his arms to memory. He didn't know if this was a one night only deal or if it was more, but, whichever it was, he didn't want to forget a single moment.

"I love you, Sam," he whispered into her hair and ran a hand over her waist. Sammie's movement startled him and he loosened his grip on her to let her turn around.

"Derek," she whispered his name as she raised her hand to his face. With a sleepy smile, she tilted her chin slightly to press her lips against his.

"I missed you, Angel," Derek kissed her again, tangling his hand in her hair, the tips of his fingers running over the large scar on the side of her scalp. "So much."

"What can I say?" she joked, her voice quiet, just realizing exactly what'd they'd done, "I'm just that good in bed."

"Sam," Derek pulled back too look at her, his eyes sad, "I didn't mean just this. Sammie-Girl, I missed you. Everything, all of you. Coming home and seeing you there. Walking Clooney while holding your hand. Sammie, I miss you."

"I..." Sammie looked at a loss for what to say, so, instead of speaking, she cuddled close into his arms. Derek's heart fell violently and he fought the tears he knew were there. He took a deep breath, burying his face in her hair and tried not to fall apart now. "Derek, I miss you too. I've always missed you."

Moving far enough away to see her face, he studied her. He knew the eyes he stared into better than any other eyes in the world and, even after nine years, he could still read them better than he could read most books.

"I missed you, Derek," Sammie threaded her fingers through his and leaned forward to kiss him. "I wish I could change everything. Turn back time and change it…"

"We can change now, Baby Girl," Derek whispered, kissing her again. "Marry me, Sammie. I hate being divorced; I want to be married to you again."

"We can't get married," Sammie's voice was halfway between laughter and tears. "Derek, you live in Virginia. I live here."

"I can move back here–"

"And do what? Go back to being a cop? Derek, you can't leave your job. You can't go back to being a cop. Not after spending all that time with the BAU. You wouldn't be happy."

"I'm happy with you," Derek told her pointedly. "I don't need some job to make me happy. I want, I need you. I want and need my wife."

"Derek, please don't do this."

"I'm your husband, Sam."

"No, you're not. We're divorced, Derek. This was... I don't know what this was. I'm not your wife anymore," Sammie was crying now, trying to ignore the tears she couldn't stop. "I'm not your wife, Derek."

"Tell me one person you've been with since we signed that stupid piece of paper. One person. Gone on a single date with."

"Derek, stop."

"You haven't been with anyone, have you?" Derek refused to give her an easy out this time. "Have you?"

"Stop it. Derek, just–"

"I haven't."

"What?" Sammie stopped at this admission. She stared at him with her lips parted just slightly, like her mind was so busy trying to process the information that she couldn't remember to close her mouth.

"I want you, Sam. I don't want anyone else. I never wanted that stupid divorce. You know that. I never even signed the papers. I don't want to be your ex-husband. I've never wanted it. Why would I waste my time with someone who isn't you?"

"Derek…"

"I meant it when I said forever, Sam. I still mean it," Derek kissed her. "I didn't mean 'forever, because we got pregnant.' I meant 'forever, because I love you more than anything in the world.' I still love you more than anything, Angel, and I still mean forever."

"You haven't been with anyone since we got divorced?"

"I go out just enough so that my co-workers don't start wondering. When we're all at a bar, I dance. I let them think I'm a complete player who doesn't stay with the same woman for longer than a week, because it's easier than telling them I'm waiting for my wife to realize she doesn't want to be divorced either," Derek kissed the back of her hand.

"Then James showed up at your office," Sammie whispered, knowing this part of the story.

"James showed up. Kind of a blessing in disguise, really," Derek kissed her again, pulling her tightly against him. "I put my ring back on that next morning and I haven't taken it off since."

"You always wore it at home," Sammie looked down at the gold band on his finger pressing, cold, against her fingers as they held hands.

"Always. Sammie, look at me, Baby Girl," Derek waited until she looked into his eyes again. "I'm still married to you. I don't care what that paper says. I'm still your husband. I'll never stop being your husband."

"You always have to make this hard."

"You don't want to be divorced."

Derek's words hung between like a challenge, almost daring her to tell him she still wanted the divorce, that she'd ever really wanted it. Sammie opened her mouth, sighed and closed it again. She shut her eyes in defeat. Derek's heart soared and he cuddled her close, kissing her forehead and whispering that he loved her. It wasn't exactly a win, but it wasn't a loss either.

Without saying a word, she's admitted what he'd known for years: she didn't want to be divorced. She still wanted him. Derek knew that getting her to admit that was the easy part. Getting her to do something about it, to change her already decided mind, would be the difficult part.

"I love you, Samantha Morgan. I'm not giving up."

"You wouldn't be you if you gave up," Sammie sighed, pressing close into his arms and wishing she could have this forever. "I love you too, Derek."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I met Lois Lowry today. But I was too star struck to say anything other than "Thank you" when she signed my books. I mean, she's amazing! She's one of the authors that made me want to write in the first place. Ugh. I can't. And she's such a great speaker. And just generally all-around perfect, okay?**

**Hockey started! Sort of. The AHL started - NHL is still locked out because FUCK YOU BETTMAN. Anyways. The Wolves played yesterday and I didn't get to see it because I was busy, so I watched it today. Jesus, it was so intense in some moments. Like a freaking playoff game. Eddie was doing cartwheels, I'm so proud. That game went to a shoot-out and Hayds, Sweatt and Schroeds scored. SO PROUD MY BABIES. Long story short, we won yay. **

**And then they played again today, but I only got to watch the last ten minutes, because I was doing something lame like meeting Lois Lowry. ANYWAYS. Ebbs scored and it was beautiful. And Nate scored twice and it was beautiful. And Sweatt scored and it was beautiful. And the new guy Sterling (who apparently played for the Wolves before they were the Canucks' affiliate so Idk who he is) scored and it was beautiful. BUT THEY STILL SUFFER FROM THE THIRD PERIOD CURSE, WHERE THEY DOMINATE THE FIRST TWO PERIODS AND THE FUCKING GIIIIVE THE GAME AWAY IN THE LAST PERIOD LIKE IT'S FREE CANDY. THEY WERE WINNING 3-0 AND THEN POOF THIIIIIIRD PERIOD STRIKES AGAIN!**

**I mean, they won in the end, but they let the Icehogs score 2 to make it 3-2 and then they scored to make it 4-2 and then, almost immediately, the Icehogs scored again to make it 4-3. But then the Wolves scored and made it 5-3, BUT STILL. I was hoping the Wolves Third Period Woes (which persisted all last season) were gone, but alas, they stick around to kill me. ****Assholes.**

**Then I skyped with my baby sister for three hours and it was awesome.**

**And now I'm going to bed. G'NIGHT FRIENDS.**

**Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.

* * *

_"How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep." - J.R.R Tolkien_

o o o o

9 February, 2011

The first thing Sammie registered as she woke that morning was the warm, strong arms wrapped around her and the steady, even breathing that blew a warm breath against her skin. Settling back, she leaned back against his chest and inhaled deeply. The sun was just barely peaking through the window curtains and Derek still smelt faintly like the Drakkar Noir he always wore.

It was the same scent she'd purchased for him the Christmas of 1999. She'd been walking around Foley's looking for an olive branch to offer him just two days before Christmas and, frustrated and ready to give up, she passed through the perfume department on the way to the parking lot. An older man with thinning white hair was straightening what was left of the ransacked cologne counter when she passed and, with a knowing smile, beckoned her over. She smelt a handful of colognes, more to humour the man than because she thought she would actually purchase one, but, the moment she smelt Drakkar Noir, it smelt like Derek. Sexy and a little dangerous.

The fact that he still wore it now filled her with a happy warmth. Even faded by the previous day and night, the scent was crisp and spicy. It was comforting in it's familiarity. She almost wanted to turn in his arms and bury her nose against his chest to take a deeper breath. Instead, she stayed where she was and nestled her head more comfortably against his shoulder.

She knew this position, knew it very well. For one blissful month, she woke every morning to Derek's arms around her and his breath on the back of her neck. Except, then, his arms hadn't wrapped so entirely around her, rather, his hand stopped to rest on her stomach protectively, like he was shielding their daughter from something, keeping his hand there to make sure she was safe.

In the end, it hadn't mattered. Nick had been there. He'd killed her best friend, killed their daughter, nearly killed her. At the time, she wished she had died as well. Some nights, she still wished she had. But, every night, she lay in bed imagining Derek's arms holding her close, remembering the weight of his leg on hers, the warmth of his breath on her neck, the overwhelming, intoxicating feeling of safety.

Derek, still asleep, responded to her movement by curling his arms around her more securely, knitting his fingers together in front of her stomach, and pressed his cheek to the back of her head. He mumbled something unintelligible and Sammie couldn't stop the sleepy smile from gracing her face.

"I love you."

She felt the mumbled words reverberate through her more than she heard them. The smile faded away and Sammie closed her eyes.

Derek was so sure that they could move past Ellie's death, be a family again, but she didn't have that same faith. She still hadn't moved past their daughter's death on her own and it had been nine years. Nine years since she'd woken up in the hospital, confused and scared, to see her unshaven husband cry tears of relief that she'd woken up at all and discover that, not only was she no longer pregnant, but she was physically destroyed, her best friend was dead and her daughter had died just hours after being born. Her entire life would never again be the same.

They would never be a family again. There was no turning back time, a lesson she'd learned in such a painful way. There was no way back to the happiness she and Derek had shared. The castle of love and happiness the two of them had built so carefully had been trampled and demolished and burned to the ground. The way back to the wreckage was obscured and twisted, lost in bramble and decay that she purposefully cultivated; bridges were cut down, leaving places impassable and treacherous. Sleeping Beauty would never wake should she find herself trapped there, for the Prince would never make it through.

There was no finding a way back to the castle. Sammie had made sure of that.

Sammie laid a hand over of his and smoothed her fingertips over his skin. Regardless of everything, it felt wonderful to be back in his arms, to be surrounded by the way he smelt and to be warmed by more than just her blankets. Threading her fingers through his, she smiled when he shifted and pulled her even closer, the way he used to when he slept. Her breath hitched for a moment when he squeezed so tightly she couldn't breathe, but he settled quickly and her lungs expanded again.

What she'd done last night was stupid and, if she had any sense at all, she would slip out of this bed and take a cab back to Riverside. But maybe it would be okay to stay here just a little longer. Pretend it was before. Pretend it was okay to be lying here.

As she let herself enjoy being back in Derek's arms, she looked around the room. She hadn't been in this house since she left Derek. She didn't even realize Derek still owned it. Their photos were still up around the room, it still felt like their home. More than anything, he still felt like her home.

"You're real."

The words were whispered warmth and a shiver went down her spine. Derek pressed a kiss to her neck and secured the treading of their hands. Sammie closed her eyes.

"I've waited years for you to be real," Derek kissed her skin as he shifted, pulling his hand from hers to bring it up her torso to her face. He gently turned her head towards him and kissed her as he pushed up on an elbow.

Warning bells rang like sirens in Sammie's ears, telling her to run, but she opened her mouth to him instead and invited him closer, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. Derek's hands swept over her body, re-familiarizing himself with the memorized terrain. Sammie moaned. Derek smiled into their kiss and moved lower.

This had been a spectacularly bad idea the last four times and it was just as spectacularly bad an idea the fifth time, but there were some mistakes she couldn't keep herself from making.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I don't have a tooth brush," Sammie mumbled, pulling her sweater over her head and looking around the room, trying not to look at Derek stepping into his jeans. The sun was high in the sky now, lighting the entire room. The clock shone green numbers telling her it was past noon.

"There's a Walgreens down the street," Derek walked around, searching the floor for his shirt.

"Your shirt's in the music room," Sammie gestured.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," Derek kissed her cheek and hurried out of the room. He found his purple shirt where he'd left it - limp on the floor behind the piano bench. Taking a moment to close the lid, Derek soaked up the magic of the room again before opening his phone and hitting Hotch's speed dial. "Hey, Hotch. It's Morgan. No, I'm staying in Chicago until Sunday. I'll be back at work on Monday. No, I'm fine. I've just got a few soccer games I have to see."

Derek hung up the phone and tucked it into his pocket before turning back to the bedroom. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and began buttoning as he walked through to find Sammie sitting in the club chair by the window, staring out into the snow-covered yard. "Angel?"

"I sat right here and told you I hated you," she whispered.

"There was a lot going on then," Derek brushed it aside. "You were sick."

"I knew what I was saying. I sat right here and I asked Mom to help me leave you."

Derek sat down on the rumpled bed. "I know. She told me."

"She wouldn't help me. So I went to Tony."

"I remember."

"I didn't hate you, Derek. I should never had said that."

"I know, Angel."

"You should hate me."

"I could never hate you," Derek stood and crossed the few feet to the chair. He leaned down without asking and picked her up, turning and sitting in her place and cuddling her into his lap. She stiffened for a minute before relenting to the internal struggle he'd been watching since the team came to Chicago and she relaxed against his chest. Derek smiled and kissed her temple, raising on hand to her hair and massaging her scalp the way that melted her to a place of calm contentedness. It took a few seconds before she languidly leaned against him and she closed her eyes. "This is what I imagined when I saw this room," Derek murmured in her ear. "I imagined sitting in the window with you, snuggled together and watching the snow."

"Watching Ellie play in the snow," Sammie turned her face into his throat.

"Yes," he admitted, a touch of sadness in his voice, "watching Ellie play in the snow."

"Nothing happened the way it was supposed to happen."

"No," Derek shook his head. "No, it didn't. Ellie's supposed to be banging around here somewhere with a brother or sister or two."

Sammie didn't answer. Her shoulders shook slightly and Derek took his hand from her hair to hold her tight. Tears came. They trickled one-by-one at first, accompanied by the occasional sniff, before cascading down her cheeks and shaking her shoulders. Anguish left her in ragged gasps, muffled by Derek's chest as the wound re-opened in her heart.

"I know, Baby," Derek wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her while she spilt her grief. He buried his face in her hair and let his own tears fall. They sat this way for longer than either of them knew. They'd never done this. They had each mourned their daughter separately, they mourned every day, but always separately. They had never once truly grieved their loss together. "I'm so sorry, Angel."

"I ask God why he took her every single day," Sammie sniffed.

Derek kissed her hair and sighed. "I do too, Sam."

"I wish you'd killed him."

"So do I."

A bird landed on the bare branch of a tree in the backyard, dislodging snow and hopping before settling down and enjoying his solitary perch. Soon, another bird flitted over, landing lighting on a branch about a foot away from the first bird. The second bird skittered closer, a little bit at a time, before he got too close and the first bird ruffled his feathers.

"If Crookshanks were here, he'd be going nuts right now," Derek laughed. "There's a robin that lives in the tree that can be seen from the front window and whenever Crookshanks sees it, his hair bristles and he starts hissing. He got so agitated that he tried to go through the windows once."

"How is Crookshanks?" Sammie asked.

"He's good. Healthy. He was about half a pound overweight the last time I took him to the vet, but I told the pet sitter not to give him as many treats for a while and I think he's gotten lighter."

"And Clooney?"

"He still carried around that pink sweatshirt of yours, but it doesn't really resemble a sweatshirt anymore."

"I miss them."

"Do you want me to bring Crookshanks back here to live with you?"

"No," Sammie shook her head. "That would confuse him. It wouldn't be fair."

"Any time you want to come to Virginia, I'm ready."

"Derek -"

"I'm sorry. Let me take you out to lunch, please?" Derek brushed his lips against her skin. "Spend the day with me."

"I dunno, Derek, I should go home. Gia has a game and I promised I'd be there." Sammie started to get up and Derek let her.

"I'm going to the game. I can't wait to see Gia play. We could spend the day together and then meet everyone at the same."

"Derek -"

"Please, Sam. One day?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Derek!" Gia launched herself over the chainlink fence and straight into Derek the second he walked into the stadium. "You came! O-M-G, you came. What if I suck? Ohmygod, you have to leave so you don't see me suck."

"You won't suck, goofball," Derek kissed both her cheeks and pushed her back towards the pitch. "You'll be great!"

Gia hopped over the fence again and went back to her stretches with her teammates. The backup keeper was waiting where Gia had left her, bouncing the ball on her knee and stretching out her back. Derek watched for a second before turning and heading up the aluminum steps to the bleachers. His family was easy to spot and he waved as he walked.

"You ready to watch her?" Paola asked as he sat behind her, next to Andrea.

"I've been ready for the past two years," Derek joked as Sammie sat next to him, having followed him up the bleachers. "I hate that this is the first time I've seen her play in so long."

Andrea eyed the two of them with a faint smile as Derek took Sammie's mitten-covered hand in his and leaned over to speak in her ear. Sammie smiled at whatever Derek said, nodding her agreement, and let him keep her hand in his.

"How tall is Gia now?" Derek asked, looking at Sammie and reveling in the fact that she let him hold her hand in front of her family.

"Five-nine," Sammie answered, watching her cousin leaning her head against the far post and praying as the players gathered around centre field. Gia crossed herself and then jumped up to tap the crossbar before settling herself in the centre of the goalmouth. "Let's go, Bulldogs!"

The whistle blew and the game started. Time passed too quickly. Before he realized it, half time was whistled and the Bulldogs were in the lead 1-0.

"She's good," Derek whispered in Sammie's ear and Sammie nodded, turning to look at him. His face was closed than she realized and their noses brushed. Derek couldn't help himself. He leaned foreward and kissed her. Sammie's eyes widened before she closed them and returned the kiss. When the brief kiss ended, Derek smiled, "I love you."

"I know."

Little three-year-old Leo tugged on Derek's knees and held his arms out for Derek to pick him up. Obliging, Derek settling his cousin on his lap and hugging him through his heavy down coat and snow suit. Leo tugged on his jacket sleeve, looking up expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Sammie married again now?"

"No, Leo," Sammie shook her head. "No, we're not."

"But you kissed like Mommy and Daddy kiss." Leo insisted stubbornly.

"It's complicated, Leo." Derek offered.

"No, it's not." Leo shook his head. "If you love each other, you kiss and get married."

"Look, Leo," Sammie pointed back out onto the field and Leo followed where she was pointing. "Gia's back out. Where's your sign? Go get your sign, Leo."

Throughly distracted, Leo ran to get his sign from his father. Sammie pulled her hand from Derek's and Derek sighed. "I'm sorry, Angel."

"I don't want to confuse them," Sammie said, not looking at him. "And I don't want to confuse me."

"You don't have to be confused, Sammie. No one does. We can have -"

"Not the time, Derek," she whispered as the whistle blew for the second half.

* * *

**A/N:**

**This is absolutely not the best chapter I've ever written, but it's literally been kicking my butt since October 22nd and I just need to move on. That, and school and work got in the way of writing it, but, when I did have time to write it, it was completely uncooperative. So I'm just moving on. I might go back and take another stab at this chapter later, but, for now, it is what it is. UGH.**

**Okay, I'm tired and my feet hurt and I have to be up for work in 7 hours, so I'm going to bed. Night friends!**

**Love, Thalia**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man's determination." - Tommy Lasorda_

o o o o

10 February 2011

"Mama, what should I do?"

"Well, you shouldn't be sleeping with my daughter out of wedlock, but that never stopped you before," Andrea smiled, not looking up from the dough she was kneading in a large glass bowl. Her smile widened when Derek started choking on his coffee.

"How'd you know?" Derek asked, still sputtering, and Andrea just laughed.

"_Tesoro_, I know you and I know her. I know how you love each other and I have no idea how you stayed apart for nine years." Andrea set the dough in the cold oven to rise and leaned back against the counter to look at her son, who was flushed with embarrassment. "I also know what it means when a woman stays out with a man all night. I was fairly certain you weren't playing _briscola_."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Derek looked down and put his glass on the counter.

"So? Are you back together, then, _Tesoro_? You and Samantha?"

"No, Mama. You know she won't take me back. Says it's too late for us."

"My daughter is a fool. And my son is a fool for giving up."

"I'm not giving up," Derek protested. "I've hardly given up on getting back with Sam."

"You leave, Derek," Andrea shook her head. "You spend all your time in Virginia and barely any here."

"That's where my job is, Mama. I live there," Derek sighed. "It's the only place my unit works and Sammie has already said she doesn't want me to leave my job to come back to Chicago for her."

"Samantha doesn't know what she wants. She knows what she thinks she wants. And she does not have a say in what you choose to do. Do you want to come back to Chicago, Derek? Do you want to be here and be with Samantha?"

"Yes, Mama. You know I do, but she won't."

"You both give me such ridiculous excuses about why you can't be the family you're supposed to be. You might as well tell me you have to stay apart because the sky is blue."

"That's not fair," Derek said firmly. "If I did what I wanted, she'd be running to hills and I'd never have a chance to get her back. I have a plan, Mama."

"Because doing what she wants has been so successful, then?" Andrea challenged him, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised. "Nine years, Derek. You didn't speak for nine years. Yes, you sent flowers every month, gifts on her birthday and Christmas, letters, calls and visits, I know. But you never spoke to her. Not one conversation in nine years. What part of that's successful?"

"It's successful now," Derek pointed out stubbornly.

"Yes. Because you spoke to her. You didn't let her run away like you usually do."

"Mama -"

"No. You listen to me. I know -"

"What do you know? You married Tom! And then stayed with him! That doesn't exactly show good relationship judgment, does it?" Derek spoke without thinking and the second the words left his lips, he desperately wanted them back. "Mama, I didn't - Mama. I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Andrea didn't speak. She turned away from him and Derek felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Standing, Derek walked over to her and reached a hand out for her. Her shoulders were shaking and Derek wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

"Mama, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I didn't think."

Andrea shrugged out of his arms and looked at him with teary eyes, wiping at them with the backs of her hands. "I made my mistakes. I lived through hell because of them - so did Samantha and James. I paid for my mistakes ten times over. Why do you make me pay for them again?"

"Mama, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I really, really didn't. It just came out." Derek looked at the floor, feeling like the worst person on earth. "You know I love you, Mama. You know I don't think that. It came out because I was frustrated. I've worked so hard to get back into Sammie's life without ruining my chances. Mama, I love her. You know how much I love her. But we both know that if I'd pressed the issue before she was ready, I'd ruin everything.

"Sam's stubborn and opinionated and she's the only woman I've ever loved and I want her back. I'll be damned it I mess that up more than it already is. You can't force anything on Sammie. You know you have to let her make her own choices. She has to choose me or it won't work. Mama..." Derek stopped and sighed, a faint, happy smile playing on his lips, "I had her for a day. She looked at me like I was her husband again. She's bending, Mama. She wants this, she wants me back, I know it, but she has to admit it to herself first. I'm going to get her back, Mama. I will. I have a plan and it _will _work_. _But you have to let me do it my way."

Andrea sighed, taking Derek's hand in hers. She leaned forward and kissed his arm. "How stupid of me to have a child smarter than I am."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

11 February 2011

Sammie had been sitting at the piano for longer than she knew. She always lost track of time when she played. The piano sat in the church opposite the organ and Sammie came here to play almost every day. She played whatever she wanted, from memory, from paper, from her own imagination. Here, playing the piano, was the only place she ever felt truly at peace.

Today, she was playing a piece from heart, one she'd written for her daughter. It was a lengthy piece into which she'd poured her heart and emotions. Her entire soul had gone into this piece, and a few others like it. There were days where she'd play it over and over and over until her fingers cramped and could no longer span the keys or hit the notes. Today was one of those days.

People milled around her, accustomed to her presence. A few stopped to squeeze her shoulder or bent to kiss her cheek. Her music was so common in the background of the church that no one thought anything of it, though a few stayed longer than their prayers to listen. Sammie closed her eyes and played, the music coming from her fingers without any prompting or guidance. She knew the piano keys better than she knew her own body.

Eventually, the piece came to an end and Sammie opened her eyes again. The peace she felt still lingered and she stood, closing the lid over the keys and pushing in the bench. She took her peace while she had it, following the familiar path through the church to the cemetery adjacent. The path was easy and Sammie reached the plot quietly. She knelt and brushed snow from the marble plaque. The name showed itself first as she knew it would and she traced the engraving eagerly.

_ Elaine Madison Morgan _

She cleared the words below the name next and mouthed the date she knew by heart.

_ 15 October 2001._

The verse came next. The one that her mother had picked out while Derek sat with her in the hospital, praying for her to wake. She hated and loved the verse.

_ "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Matthew 5:8_

Snow crunched behind her, but Sammie didn't turn as she uncovered the cross engraved next to the text. She didn't turn until Derek knelt next to her and brushed away the last of the snow, his fingers touching hers. His fingers slid between hers and Sammie gripped his hand tightly.

This was what she wanted. She came here every day, every single day since she'd been released from the hospital after the third suicide attempt... Every day she came to this grave and the only thing she'd ever wanted was his hand holding hers and his support around her. Now she had it and Sammie clung to it.

Neither one spoke. Derek wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him, his other hand still clenched tightly by hers. Sammie leaned against him and closed her eyes.

"I love you," she whispered into his coat and Derek kissed her temple.

"I love you too, Angel."

"We should come to her, together, a long time ago."

"We should have," Derek agreed, holding her tighter. "We're here, Ellie. A little late, though. I'm sorry, Sweet Girl."

"We love you so much, Ellie," Sammie's voice was thick with tears. "I miss - we miss you, Ellie. We -"

Sammie's voice cut off and Derek pulled his hand from her to wrap both arms around her securely. She hadn't cried at Ellie's grave since Ellie's birthday, but now it was all too much. She couldn't stop herself from crying as Derek held her.

She shouldn't have to be here. It was three o'clock on Friday. She should be picking Ellie up from school and getting ready to meet their family for Gia's soccer game. She should be listening to Ellie chatter about everything she'd done at school that day, she should be glancing at the time to make sure Derek got home on time, she should be smiling when he rushed in the door a minute before he was late and kissing him gratefully. She shouldn't be crying over her daughter's grave.

"I needed you. I needed you so much," she sobbed and Derek stroked her back, whispering to her softly. As hard as he kicked himself for leaving, he knew her words were directed at her, not him. She was finally, _finally_, admitting she needed him and Derek clung to that the way she was clinging to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin everything," Derek whispered, kissing her hair. "Nick ruined everything. You were hurting, Baby. We both were."

"I need you."

"I need you too, Sam."

When Sammie hiccuped her tears away, Derek brushed at her tears and dried her face with his fingertips. He leaned down and caught her lips. Sammie leaned into the kiss, desperate to be closer to him.

"How did you know I was here?" She asked when the kiss ended.

"I came to see her. I always come see her when I'm here. I was talking to Father Berlusconi and I saw you walking out here," Derek stroked her hair while omitting the part where he'd been waiting for her to leave for Ellie's grave. "I've wanted to be here with you. This is where I should be, it's where I belong, Baby Girl. Right here with you."

"Derek -"

"Sam, listen to me. Please?"

Sammie closed her mouth and took a deep breath.

"This is where I belong. Here, in Chicago, with you and Ellie. I'm coming back to Chicago, Angel. Wait," Derek put a finger to her lips as she opened her mouth to protest. "Listen. There's an FBI unit here and they're building out their Crimes Against Children devision. I'm going to ask for a transfer home."

"Derek, we can't."

"Listening, Sam," Derek smiled at her ruefully. "This is what _I_ want. I want to come home, Sammie. I miss my family. I miss my mom and my sisters and Mama and all our crazy cousins. I'm tired of missing things. I'm tired of missing you."

"We can't get married again -"

"Do I need to define 'listening' for you, Angel?" Derek laughed and kissed her. Sammie clamped her mouth shut and stared at him pointedly. "I want to date you again, Sam. I want to start this again, start us again."

"What if it doesn't work out?" Sammie asked, chewing on her bottom lip now.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, Angel. Are you?" When she didn't answer, he continued. "I need you, Sammie. I don't want to spend another nine years without you. You and Ellie are the best things that have ever happened to me, Sam. No matter how it turned out. I'm willing to take the risk again, Sam. To be with you, I'd take any risk."

"Derek, I can't handle another..." her words trailed off and Derek nodded. "I can't, Derek. I really can't."

"There won't be another, Sammie. I promise. I'll never, ever let you be hurt again."

"You can't promise that," Sammie shook her head. "You can't promise something won't go wrong again. You can't promise Nick won't come back. You can't promise there won't be some horrible accident or something."

"You're right," Derek sighed, running his fingers along her cheek. "I promised before and we're sitting by our daughter's grave. Sammie, I can't promise nothing will go wrong. I can promise I'll do everything I can to protect us. I love you, Sammie. I'm coming back to Chicago, Angel. I want to be with you, even if it's just as your boyfriend. Can we try? Please?"

"Can I think?" Sammie asked and Derek nodded even though he wanted to say no.

"Yes, of course."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"That a girl, Gia!" Derek yelled as Gia jumped to punch the ball away from the net. The ball soared in an arc over the net as the Campaniello family cheered. Sammie sat next to him, cheering just as loudly. She clapped happily as Gia caught the shot off the corner kick and their section cheered even louder until Gia sent the ball flying towards the opposite end of the pitch. "She's got your form!" Derek laughed and turned to James, who was sitting on his other side.

"Who do you think taught her?" James grinned, watching as Sammie slipped her gloved hand into Derek's. He smile widened and he raised his eyebrows at Derek in question. Derek gave a tentative smile in return and an expression to that the situation was unresolved.

Sammie squeezed his hand as one of the forwards came close to scoring, but the opposing keeper turned the shot away. Derek turned away from James and watched Sammie's face. Her happy smile was gruesome with it's twisted flesh, but it made Derek smile. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. When she turned, her face was broken into a huge smilie that warmed him from the inside out. Sammie brought her hand to his face and leaned in, kissing him fully.

Half their family saw, including Andrea, who looked so happy she might burst. Derek couldn't help himself. He kissed her again, pulling her tightly against him and holding her as close to himself as possible. Andrea's eyes were filled with tears and she wiped them away with the back of her hands.

Leo climbed into Derek's lap, breaking the kiss the way only a child would. He tugged on Derek's coat and Derek looked down at his cousin. "Leo?"

"Are you married now?"

"No, Leo," Derek shook his head. "Sam and I aren't married now."

"Why not?"

"Because it takes a while to become married," Sammie explained. "You have to date first. Make sure you can get married."

"Are you dating?" Leo looked at Derek, who glanced hesitantly at Sammie.

Sammie's mouth hung open for a second. She stared into Derek's eyes and then looked down at Leo. Leo's curly brown hair and big blue eyes turned to her and Sammie reached to take him into her arms. She curled herself around her little cousin, hugging him tightly. "Yes, Leo. We're dating."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Derek," Sammie moaned his name as he kissed her, closing the door behind them as they stumbled into the house. It was late and they had stayed with their family long after the game ended. Sammie had taken his hand and gone with him to his car when the family dispersed and Derek made to head back to his mom's. She'd kissed him and gotten into his car without saying anything.

Derek hadn't driven back to his mom's. He drove straight to their house in Evanston, the two kissing every time the car stopped. Derek held onto her hand the entire time. He was afraid that she would decide not to try, but when she told Leo they were dating, his heart had swelled so big it barely fit inside his chest. Now, across the threshold of their house, he couldn't keep his hands off her.

"Sam," Derek lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Sammie grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him, cutting off anything he might have said. He liked carrying her to their bed, he always had. There was something incredibly heady about having her close against his chest with both of them knowing what they were walking towards.

Derek nudged the door open with his foot and closed it the same way. Sammie held onto him as he leaned over the bed to put her down. With a grin, Derek put his knee down on the mattress and began unbuttoning her blouse. He eased the blouse away, kissing neck and running his hands down over her arms. His fingers grazed over the scars following her Ulnar and Radial veins and Sammie tightened her grip on his shirt.

"I love you," Derek whispered against her lips. "I love you, Sammie."

"I love you too, Derek," Sammie broke their kiss, pulling his shirt over his head and letting it fall to the ground. Derek kissed his way down her neck, his fingers curling between hers to squeeze her hand. He stopped at her collarbone and smiled, kissing her collarbone and rose up over her again.

Derek kissed her again, nuzzling her nose with his. She smiled up at him and raised his lips to meet hers. The kissed turned playful and Derek smiled, squeezing her hand. "You're my girlfriend."

"Yes," Sammie murmured the words against his lips, "I'm yours."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I don't really have an author's note for this one. I'm tired. Criminal Minds is pissing me off. It's hard to write CM or even want to when the actual show has become so shitty. **

**Oh. I went up to Dallas to see a Canucks game. It was amazing. I loved every single second of it. Seeing them was perfect. I'm going back in April. I'm ticking off days on my calendar until it's time.**

**I've recently (as in two days ago) got into Once and I hate Ren for doing this to me. Jerk.**

**Okay. Now I'm ending this because it's game time. - I lied it's not game time. We don't play until tomorrow. Oops. Anyways, I'm still outtie.**

**Bye.**

**Love, Thal**


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